


in a dreaming place

by Sieben9



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, F/M, Fae Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-19 16:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18138104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sieben9/pseuds/Sieben9
Summary: Some mild body horror in this one.





	1. Chapter 1

_7 years ago_ _…_

 

This shortcut had been a bad idea, Belle realised. The sky was already dark as midnight, and they weren't even halfway to the house. "Maybe we should go back?" she called.

No reply.

"Maman? Maman, are you there?" Again, nobody answered, and Belle stopped to look around with a frown. Colette had been right behind her when they'd decided to cut through the forest and Belle could have sworn— Thunder rolled in the distance, and Belle flinched. She'd always liked rainstorms, but mostly from inside a house. This was decidedly closer to nature than she'd ever intended to get in her life, never mind this afternoon, after what had probably been the biggest fight with her father, yet. Right now, she couldn't even remember what they'd both been angry about, but she was certain that it had been very important.

Moe French was not a bad father, as such, but he disliked change, and he disliked it even more when things outside of his control happened. His only daughter leaving town to go to college was both of those in one package, wrapped up in just a touch of preemptive empty nest syndrome. This hadn't been their first fight, and until she left for college, it probably wouldn't be their last. At this point, Belle had learned to just leave the house for a few hours and come back when they'd both had the time to calm down.

Except today, a storm warning had come over the radio, and her mother had felt the need to come pick her up. It had been Belle's idea to cut through the woods, but even she was starting to doubt the wisdom of it. They were going to get drenched either way, and on the open road there was less chance of a stray bit of tree hitting them.

Except now her mother was nowhere to be seen, and Belle felt the first wisps of panic snake their way up her throat. "Maman?" she called again, much more quietly this time. She took a step backwards, and something snapped under her shoe. In a flash of flying leaves and damp earth, Belle was on the ground. Her hand hit a tree, rough bark harsh against her skin, and her head hit the soft ground with a sickening lurch.

_The world shifted._

Belle could have sworn that she got up in seconds, but when she did, the storm had vanished, and even the sunlight looked different. Much more like a late dusk than the afternoon that it should still have been. Gone were the layers of wet leaves on the ground, replaced with long, deep green grass. She blinked at her surroundings, half convinced that she had just lost consciousness and was imagining this. Maybe she was—how would she be able to tell.

" _You_ shouldn't be here."

Still dazed, Belle looked up at the speaker. He didn't look human. He didn't look like anything Belle had ever seen, with large, amber eyes framed by sharp, almost hawkish features that were covered in a myriad glittering golden scales. He extended a hand to her—long, elegant fingers ending in sharp, black talons—and Belle took it without thinking. It seemed like the right thing to do.

"Have you lost your way, mortal girl?"

Belle shook her head, then nodded, afraid that a word from her might break the strange spell lying over this place.

"Well and truly lost, then." The man—the creature?—shook his head and a giggle burst out of him, sharp and almost entirely unlike a real laugh. "Do you know what happens to lost mortal children on nights like this?" When she didn't answer, he lifted one finger. "Can you hear them?"

And right as he said it, in the very distance, Belle thought she could hear the sound of thunder rumbling across the sky. The storm was still approaching somewhere; it just wasn't here.

"They are coming for you, mortal girl, and you don't want to be here when they arrive." His voice fell into a singsong tone when he said the last words, before he focused wholly on her again. "Can you run?"

The thunder sounded closer now. Belle nodded, a first trickle of panic going down her spine. Everything in her body wanted to bolt, to run and hide, but she stood still, transfixed by the man with the golden scales, who took her hand and wrapped a length of what felt like leather cord around it.

"Don't look back," he said. "Don't ask for help. And don't stop running until you're home, mortal girl." A strange expression crossed his face. "Your parents will be wondering where you went."

Finally, Belle managed to break through the haze that had trapped her thoughts from the moment she had fallen. "Who are 'they'?" she asked, voice oddly thin and strained.

And the creature grinned at her, sharp and bright, and like nothing human. "Things like me." He leaned closer, amber eyes boring into hers. " _Run!_ "

He pushed her backwards, and Belle fell.

When she hit the ground, the sun had vanished behind clouds once more, and rain hammered down on her. She scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could and started running. Minutes later, she broke through the treeline behind her family's garden, heart pounding and head still too light. She slipped and stumbled through the mud, and only when she'd already reached the house did she realise that her mother hadn't been with her during her entire run.

* * *

 

The light drizzle that had accompanied her for the better part of her journey had turned into a true downpour by the time Belle reached the town sign. She shivered and quietly cursed her old Cavalier's latest in a series of inconvenient breakdowns. Though the car hadn't forced her to leave Boston with a half-charged phone; she'd done _that_ all by herself. By the time she had to call the tow truck, the battery had been well and truly dead.

"At least its not a proper storm," Belle reminded herself. Sticking out the night in her car would have been incredibly uncomfortable, but she would have taken that over wandering under a lightning-streaked sky at this time of the day.

Above her head, the town sign proclaimed that she was "Welcome to Storybrooke" in cheerful yellow letters that entirely failed to lift Belle's mood, and not only because she rain-drenched and miserably cold despite the warm late August air. She hadn't wanted to ever come back here. Even when she had still lived here, it had seemed dreary and stifling to Belle. Not a _bad_ town, but a very small one. And after her mother disappeared… well, there was a reason neither her father nor her had ever come back here. Still, ignoring this place didn't mean that the memories of it had vanished and now that she was back, Belle was nowhere near ready for it.

 _Freezing to death at the town line is a bad way to solve that problem_ , she chided herself. _Get moving._ The lights along main street flickered to life as she passed them, her small carry-on luggage rattling behind her, and Belle was struck by how familiar everything looked. Yes, the façades of the houses looked a little more battered, and the clothes in the single shop window had changed to show more contemporary fashion, but other than that, it seemed like nothing in this town had changed for the last seven years. She wasn't sure if the thought was comforting or depressing.

Abruptly, Belle stopped dead. She'd let her feet carry her, too deeply in thoughts to pay much attention to where she was going, and they had brought her right up to the library.

The shut down library.

Belle blinked in confusion, taking in the "Out of Order" sign, the boarded-up windows, and the torn strips of building tape still visible. How could they just close the library? True, not many people had frequented it, even back when she was younger, but surely people still wanted to read? For several long heartbeats, she just stood there, rain running into her coat, angry with herself that this affected her so much. It wasn't like she was planning to stay.

Still, she'd always felt a kinship with the old building, with its strange layout and the old clock tower, that only seemed to show the right time—or any time at all—three days out of any given week. That it could just not be there anymore was unsettling, she decided.

The only problem was that the library had been her best chance at getting to a phone without encountering people who would try and ask her awkward questions. She couldn't avoid people forever, but tonight was definitely not the night, which meant she would just have to call from the house. Her house now, she supposed. The thought would need some getting used to, at least until she was finished renovating and could sell the place.

Walking to her childhood home took Belle another twenty minutes, by which time she was just about ready to curl up under the nearest bush if it meant getting some sleep. The garden gate stood open, which was hopefully a sign that the agency she had paid with some of her meagre savings to make the place at least liveable had been through already. "Please let there be blankets," Belle whispered as she fumbled for her keys. "Or at least a blanket. Anything warm." She had brought a blanket with her, but it was still back in the car.

Just when she had pulled out her keys, the door flew open. "Belle?"

Belle stared for a moment. "Ruby?" she finally asked, voice a little weak. "I thought nobody—" She didn't get any further, because her old friend all but _tackled_ her into the tightest hug she had gotten in a long while. Belle huffed a breathy laugh and, after a moment's shock, returned the hug in kind. Some old hurt loosened in her chest and it felt like Belle could breathe a little easier. "It's good to see you," she managed to say after a moment.

"And you!" Ruby pulled back, looking a little embarrassed. "Sorry about that, but I really missed you."

"No, don't apologise! Just let me in, please. I'm soaked." Behind her, the first lazy rumble of thunder could be heard and Belle suppressed the cold shudder of fear that ran down her back.

Eyes widening, Ruby stepped aside and Belle immediately stepped inside. "What did you do?" Ruby asked. " _Swim_ all the way here?"

"No, just walked the last mile or so," Belle said, peeling off her very wet shoes. "My car died."

Mischief danced in Ruby's eyes. "You know they make these marvellous inventions these days. Call them cell phones."

"And the battery died." Belle held up the offending device as if to demonstrate.

Ruby pulled a face. "Damn. Do you want to use mine? The landline isn't up yet."

"Thanks." Belle hesitated. "Look, I don't want to sound rude, but what are you doing in my house?"

"You _did_ pay for it." Ruby must have seen her confusion, because she added. "The agency you hired pays local contractors." She shrugged. "Billy mentioned it to me, and I wanted to be the first to say hi."

Belle felt an embarrassed rush of blood to her cheeks. "I'm sorry I never called."

"Gotta say, I'm glad to hear it." Ruby's grin defused some of the very real hurt in her words. "But don't beat yourself up about it—I get why you wouldn't."

And just like that, all was forgiven. Belle blinked a few times and glanced downwards for a moment. If Ruby asked, she could blame everything on the rain. "Thank you," she whispered. "Uhm. Could I have that phone now?"

The call was a quick affair—they would send someone and she could come to pick up the car at her convenience.

"Never mind that I don't have a car to drive to the garage," she told Ruby from under at least three blankets. Her pyjama, safely tucked away at the very bottom of her bag, was still dry enough to wear, and it felt like Ruby had piled every scrap of cloth she could find on Belle.

"I can take you," Ruby offered. "It's not that far from here."

Belle smiled her gratitude and burrowed deeper into the blankets. "So… Are Billy and you still together?"

"No, not for ages." Ruby shrugged. "We're still good friends, though. You know how it is, sometimes."

Belle didn't, actually, but she didn't say so out loud. Her one attempt at a relationship had ended with a huge fight, nasty words (on his part) and a thrown shoe (on hers). Gaston had not been the type to take rejection well, and the best thing about being back in Storybrooke was that she didn't have to worry about running into him any more.

"Thanks for cleaning up the place," she said, instead. "I'm pretty sure I didn't pay for that part."

Ruby waved her thanks away. "Don't mention it. I have to clean after messy customers all day; at least this place wasn't sticky."

So Ruby still worked in the diner. Belle had always suspected that Ruby's grandmother—Mrs Lucas on paper, but "Granny" to Ruby and her handful of friends—was training her to take over the place at some point, but this didn't seem to be the time, yet. "Anything I should know?"

"The fuses blow when you as much as look at them," Ruby said. "And let the water run a little before you do anything with it." She hesitated. "Do you know how long you're staying?"

Belle bit her lip. She wanted to lie, but Ruby had been kinder to her than she had any right to expect. She deserved the truth. "I don't know," she admitted. "The plan is to get the house into shape and sell it as quickly as possible." She grimaced an apology. "I'm sorry, but I really don't want to stay here."

Ruby nodded slowly. "That's All right," she said, tone carefully neutral. "I guess I just... Nevermind." She brightened up again. "But that means it'll be at least a week or two. How about you come over for dinner?"

Belle snorted. "Did you learn to cook?"

"I can use a microwave, thank you very much." Ruby tossed her hair back in mock haughtiness. "But Granny is cooking."

"Does _Granny_ know about that?"

"Not yet, but if she found out that I left without inviting you, she'd never let me hear the end of it." Ruby glanced outside. "And I think I'll be leaving soon. Got to be up bright and early tomorrow, after all."

"Then I'd be glad to." _This isn't about staying or not,_ Belle told herself sternly. _This is about spending time with my friends._

"Great! Tomorrow evening, then? I can come over in the afternoon and maybe help sort through this mess a little?"

"Sounds good."

They talked some more, about small, harmless things until Ruby declared again that she should go and Belle scrambled out from under the blankets to escort her to the door, where they talked another half hour more. When Ruby did leave, Belle had to force herself to close the door so they wouldn't start another conversation in the doorway. She stood in the hall for a moment, staring at the dark wood wonderingly. She'd known that she missed her friend, but until right now, she had never realised how much. She had always wanted to leave Storybrooke—go to college, see new places—but her plans hadn't been anything like what had played out. Belle had never thought leaving would be so lonely.

She shook off the thought and cast a glance into the dark and now empty house, and decided that a first sweep could wait until tomorrow. Ruby had checked the place for stray animals or other unpleasant surprises, and all Belle wanted to do right now was sleep. She stared up the stairs to the second floor where her parents' bedroom used to be, then shook her head and went over to her own room.

It looked much like she had left it—some books, a stripped bed frame, and next to no personal possessions. She'd been planning to go to college, after all, and she hadn't been too keen on coming back soon. Everything she had wanted with her had been packed.

Belle went to sleep on the couch that night.

* * *

 

"...and then he actually said 'I'm not leaving until you say yes'," Belle finished.

Ruby's eyes widened. "What did you do?"

They were on their way to the promised dinner. Belle had worked on the house all day—mostly throwing out ruined furniture and marking down how many windows needed replacing—and she enjoyed the opportunity to properly stretch her legs. It was getting a little late, but at this time of the year, the sun was still a good bit over the horizon.

"I threw shoes at him." Belle probably shouldn't have felt as smug as she did when saying that, but the memory still filled her with jittery satisfaction. The breakup had been terrifying, but not nearly as terrifying as the idea of spending her life with Gaston.

Ruby made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a laugh. "You didn't."

"It was just the one shoe," Belle amended. "It left a dent in the door, though."

"Good on you!" Ruby punched her in the shoulder, grinning, before she went very serious. "Is that why you came here? Get out of the guy's way for a while?"

"No," Belle said softly. "I came back because papa died and this is my house, now." She took a deep breath. "And I want it gone."

They walked in silence for a moment. "Belle, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"No." Belle sighed. " _I'm_ sorry. I shouldn't have... dumped it on you like that. I sometimes forget that other people knew him, too." Her father hadn't gone out much after they had moved. Sometimes Belle wondered if he'd had any friends at all. They certainly hadn't been at the funeral.

"Wow. Uh… so you're going to sell the house?"

"That's the plan." Belle stared ahead, lost in thought. "I just wanted to do it myself. Repair the place. Find someone who wants it. Not just hand it off to an agency so I don't have to think about it." If ignoring this place hadn't worked; maybe saying a proper goodbye to it might put the past to rest. Belle had seen what the refusal to move on had done to her father, and she was not going down that road if she could help it.

Desperate for an easier topic of conversation, she looked around until she noticed the old clock tower. "Did they actually close the library?" she asked.

"Two years ago," Ruby said, relief clear in her voice as some tension left the air. "They couldn't find anybody to take care of the place, so…" A glint appeared in her eye. "You know… I'm sure they'd be _thrilled_ to have someone take over the place."

Belle laughed. "Ruby, no."

"Think about it," Ruby continued, her voice dropping into a mock-seductive tone. "All those poor books, just lying on their shelves. Forgotten. Unsorted…"

"Stop it, I—" Something in the corner of Belle's eye caught her attention. She stopped to look... and froze.

A man was walking on the other side of the street; short, thin, dressed in a suit that was probably more worth than Belle made in a month. He looked nothing like the strange creature she had seen in the woods all those years ago. And it was still undeniably him.

Before she knew what she was doing, Belle had crossed the street, and stepped right in the man's way. "What did you do to her?" she demanded.

The man looked at her with an expression of utter confusion, but didn't stop walking. He stepped around her and when she kept glaring at him, he said, "I'm not sure I understand—"

"My mother. _What did you do to her_?" Something black and angry bubbled in Belle's stomach, and she took a step towards the man, her hands clenching and unclenching rapidly.

"I'm still not sure what you mean, young lady, I'm afraid I—"

"Belle!" Someone grabbed Belle's shoulder and pulled her back. It took her a second to recognise Ruby's horrified face. "What are you doing?"

"It's him!" Belle said. "The one I told you about? The one I met when—" She was desperate for Ruby to understand, but she wouldn't, of course. Nobody would. Nobody had, even back then, when she'd told them all about the clearing in the woods and the stranger she had met there. Oh, they'd believed her that there had been a strange man, but the rest had been put down to the ramblings of a traumatised teenager, and no stranger had ever been found.

"That's Mr Gold," Ruby hissed. "And he's lived here for ages. Please, Belle, just..." She pulled at Belle's arm again and cast a nervous glance at the man, who now stood perfectly still on the sidewalk, leaning slightly on his cane.

"Your friend seems in genuine distress, Ms Lucas," he said, somewhat coolly. "You should take care of her."

 _Even his voice sounds different_ , Belle thought, uncertainty blooming in the pit of her stomach. Even if the stranger had been real—and Belle had often doubted it in the last years—this man didn't bear any real resemblance to him. _Except I know it's him_ , she thought. _I know it._

Still, making a scene in the middle of the street wouldn't help anyone, so Belle let herself be pulled away by Ruby.

"Always a pleasure, Ms Lucas," the man—Mr Gold, Ruby had called him—called after them.

Ruby just threw him an angry look over her shoulder, before turning back to Belle. "Holy shit," she whispered. "Are you out of your mind?" When she saw Belle's expression, she quickly amended, "I just mean... Look, it's just Mr Gold, right? If he'd been the guy you saw, you would have recognised him right away."

Belle frowned at her friend. "I've never met the man in my life."

"You must have." Now Ruby was frowning, too. "He's been here for as long as I can remember."

They'd almost reached the bed and breakfast that Ruby and her grandmother ran together, but Belle stopped. "Ruby, this isn't funny."

"I'm not trying to be!" Ruby looked concerned, now, and Belle felt her stomach sink. She'd seen that look often enough, before she'd learned to leave out the bits about strange clearings where storms couldn't reach and men with golden scales for skin out of her stories when she talked about the night her mother vanished. After a while, she'd gotten very good at pretending it had never happened.

But she knew that there had been no Mr Gold in Storybrooke before she left and Ruby was not the sort to tell her so as a prank on the "crazy girl"; people might change, but certainly not that much. Something was wrong, and she would find out what it was.

"Belle?" Ruby was making no effort to hide her worry.

"Yes," Belle said, still deep in thought. "Sorry, I... Of course I remember Gold. I don't know what came over me." It didn't sound convincing, even to her own ears, but Ruby clearly wasn't looking for an in-depth explanation and just about willing to take any kind of excuse at face-value.

"OK. Good." Ruby punched her arm playfully. "You worried me for a moment there."

Belle shot her a dutifully sheepish grin. "Won't happen again."

"Liar." Ruby returned the grin. "Now come inside, before Granny gets a chance to complain about dinner going cold."

She went ahead, but Belle lingered for another moment, looking down the street. Mr Gold was nowhere to be seen, but the image of him standing on the sidewalk was still clear in Belle's head. She would find out who he was, and what he was doing here in Storybrooke. And then she'd find out what he'd done to her mother.

* * *

 

The sun had not quite dipped behind the horizon by the time Gold had made his way to the edge of the forest. Lacking anything better to do, he leaned on his cane to keep the weight off his bad leg and waited for night to fall.

He hadn't expected to see the girl again. Not after the first handful of weeks after he'd come to this blighted town. When she hadn't shown her face, he had just assumed that she had been a visitor, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then he had simply forgotten about her. Until now. 

She had seemed quite upset with him, he mused. And quite certain that he'd somehow hurt her... mother, was it? Something about that niggled at the back of his mind. Something about a missing woman and the whole town being in uproar about it. It had happened just before Gold had arrived, and he hadn't wanted to ask for fear of drawing attention to himself. Well, at least he wouldn't have to lie when he said that he had no idea what happened to her mother.

Sunset washed over the world, turning day into night, and even here, Gold could feel the shift in the air. He straightened and took off into the forest. Immediately, the air seemed clearer. His skin tingled with the first prickling of magic, and he followed them to a slight depression in the forest floor, carefully manoeuvring over the uneven ground to keep his cane from catching on something. He could feel the ring of mushrooms before he ever saw it, and when he stepped inside, he let his cane fall to the ground with a deeply satisfying _thump_ as he left the mortal world and the disguise of Arthur Gold behind.

Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath, letting the magic of Faerie flow into his body. The last clinging traces of his human disguise evaporated, leaving him only with the incongruous suit as a reminder that Arthur Gold even existed. He flexed his hands, now once more covered in scales, before looking up again. Staying out of Faerie had been all too easy in many ways, to the point where his fey features now looked strange to him, but he _had_ missed his magic. Luckily, the only spells he needed to keep alive were his own disguise and the mild glamour over the townspeople that made them think he had lived there for decades rather than just the last six-odd years. _Nearly seven now_ , he reminded himself with a satisfied smirk. Soon, he wouldn't have to hide among the mortals anymore—not if his plan worked out as it should.

A look around told him that he had entered Faerie a little further from his destination than intended. Crossing between worlds, like most magic, was more of an art than a science and Rumplestiltskin had been distracted. Closing his eyes, he focused on the faint background hum of magic in the air and tried to pinpoint the one note that would lead him to his destination.

He found it after only a moment: a deep, resonant thrumming. The bass-note that gave all others depth and strength. Following the sound was easy enough, and Rumplestiltskin barely had to open his eyes to do it. In Faerie, what you saw was not always to be believed, but magic couldn't lie to you.

He had just reached the Arch—a tall structure as wide as three men walking abreast and build entirely out of the living wood of Faerie trees, curling upward and around each other as it grew—when he noticed a new presence. A faint trace of living magic, hidden just carelessly enough for him to notice, and getting ever closer. Rumplestiltskin tensed, but waited until the very last moment before he turned around and shot a fine, thin shard of unformed power at the new arrival. Anyone worth talking to would surely be able to turn the spell aside, and anyone who couldn't... well, they weren't worth talking to.

The spell shot between the trees and hit a barrier with a force that Rumplestiltskin felt right into his bones. A powerful magic-user, then, perhaps another fae, even. And something about the echo of that magic seemed familiar to him. _Very_  familiar. Quickly, he reached out for the magic in the air around him and started composing a second spell; one that would take longer than the first, but hopefully remain unnoticed next to the Arch.

"Just come out and tell me what you want," he called out.

A fae woman stepped out between the trees. To a mortal, she would have looked to be in her mid-thirties, and they would have been off by only a few centuries. Ageing was a strange thing for the fae. Her dark hair was tied tightly behind her head, and she was dressed as if for a ball, all dark colours and clinging decorations.

Rumplestiltskin suppressed the sigh of not-quite relief that tried to escape his lungs and said instead, "What do you want?"

"Straight to business." She shook her head. "You are no fun anymore."

He bared his teeth at her. "You have ten seconds to tell me what you want."

"Then what?" Regina asked.

Rumplestiltskin let his smile broaden, showing off a row of sharp teeth. "Then I am going to leave and you will have to explain to the queen why you didn't deliver her message." It was a guess, but not a very risky one and the way Regina's face darkened told him that he was right. After all, she didn't really talk to him anymore if she could avoid it, so if the queen's ward wanted to speak to him, it was because the queen had a message to deliver.

"You are expected at Court," she said. "The Black Fairy feels that if you insist on staying inside her demesne, you should at least present yourself to its ruler in accordance with hospitality."

Slowly, Rumplestiltskin let go of the spell he had been holding. Keeping the pattern steady was taxing enough, and if the Black Fairy wanted to see him at Court, it was unlikely that Regina was going to harm him. A single note of the spell jarred against the steady hum of the Arch and sent a brief cascade of coloured lights through the air.

Regina raised an eyebrow. "A little on edge, are we?"

"Please let your queen know that I would never dream of disregarding the laws of hospitality," Rumplestiltskin said, ignoring her. "But I think that same tradition allows me a day of rest." He would have to improvise what to do then, but that could wait.  "Now, is there anything _you_  wanted or are you just here to play the errand girl?" he asked. It wasn't an elegant insult, but an even temper was not Regina's greatest strength.

As expected, her face grew tight. "Interesting choice of words, considering you got me into this position in the first place."

"If I recall correctly," and he did, "that was your mother's doing. Nobody forced her into that war."

"Of course not." Regina had pulled a mask of cool indifference over her flash of anger and, despite the antagonistic air, Rumplestiltskin was very nearly proud of her. "And nobody could prove that you provoked her into that attack as part of one of your increasingly desperate schemes." She smiled thinly. "When will you accept that you just can't beat her?"

"I suggest you leave." The words grated out between clenched teeth and Rumplestiltskin cursed himself for letting her get to him. 

Regina's brief victorious smile fell quickly. "She found the sapling," she said.

The words sank into Rumplestiltskin's stomach like lead. "What?" he managed.

"Or maybe I should say 'a' sapling," Regina corrected. "Apparently some fool tried to weave a drawroot into the Arch. You wouldn't know anything about that?"

If he lied, she would know. And then she would tell the Black Fairy sooner or later. She would have to. "That's idiotic," he said instead, voice still strangled. "A drawroot tree could never connect to the magic of the Dreaming Place. And even if it could, the power would kill the fae who planted it."

"Quite." Regina's lips twisted into something only distantly related to a smile. "Someone would have to be quite stupid or quite desperate to even attempt it."

Rumplestiltskin felt very tired, all of a sudden. "Might I suggest you hurry along? I'm sure you're expected at the preparations for the ball."

Regina huffed something like a laugh. "One night and one day," she said. "Don't forget it. And don't do anything that might get me killed in the meantime." 

Rumplestiltskin bowed with an exaggerated flourish. "I shall do my best." When he looked up, Regina was already gone. He waited another handful of heartbeats before he turned to the Arch. Now that he knew what to look for, he could see the places where the drawroot had been pulled out of the structure and replaced with other wood. With trembling hands, he pulled at it to try and see if anything of his sapling had been left, but without luck. That explained why Regina found him so quickly, at least. After finding his handiwork on the Arch, the Black Fairy had no doubt placed a tracking spell on this place.

Rumplestiltskin stood up slowly, tarry black despair quickly turning into anger. He had been so close. Less than a month from now, the tree would have been large enough to draw on the Arch.

And now the last seven years of waiting had been for nothing.

_'When will you accept that you just can't beat her?'_

His fist slammed into a nearby tree, near-raw magic coursing down his arm and splintering the bark into matchsticks. The Arch echoed with a deep, jarred warning note and Rumplestiltskin forced down the next explosion of anger. His knuckles throbbed, but he didn't care enough to heal them with magic. What was the point? 

The thought occurred to him that other fae might still be watching, so Rumplestiltskin forced himself to calm—at least outwardly. Whatever else might have happened, he was still more safe in the mortal world than in Faerie, hospitality be damned. At least there, nobody _wanted_  to kill him. Unbidden, a memory of the young woman he'd met that afternoon flashed through his mind, hands clenched into fists and blue eyes burning with anger. _Almost nobody_ , he amended. It was... interesting that she should have shown up right now. Maybe it was something he could turn to his advantage. 

Lost in thoughts about dashed hopes and faerie roads that only mortals could walk, Rumplestiltskin slowly made his way back into Arthur Gold's life.


	2. Chapter 2

"Look." Belle massaged her temples with her fingers. "All I'm saying is that I don't remember ever going to the pawnbroker's. I'm not saying it wasn't _there_."

They were sitting inside the diner; Belle on a somewhat late lunch break while Ruby was enjoying a brief respite between meal rushes. Belle suspected that Granny was going easy on her so she could reconnect with her childhood friend.

"He is a little scary. Maybe that's why." Ruby was clearly trying to be supportive, but since Belle had mentioned Gold, her frown had grown deeper by the minute. "I thought we went over this yesterday," she added, only a little reproachfully.

Belle swallowed a deep sigh. There was probably no sense in trying to convince Ruby. Really, at this point, Belle was starting to question if she really  _didn't_  know Gold. Everyone else seemed to. "What am I even doing," she muttered. "I should be getting the house done."

"You're taking a well-deserved break," Ruby declared and poured Belle some more iced tea. "Speaking of which: the girls and I are planning a night out. Do you want to come?"

"What, today?" Belle asked, alarmed. Not that she _minded_  going out with her old friends, but she liked social evenings to be planned in advance.

"No, Ashley is at work tomorrow and David and little Emma are both sick, so Mary-Margaret has to hold down the fort there. Would be a bit of a sad evening. We were thinking Friday in two weeks."

Belle wanted to say that there was no guarantee that she'd even be there for two more week, but squashed the impulse. If she wasn't around, then she wasn't around. Right now, she could at least try at being social. "All right," she said. "Girls' night it is." She toasted Ruby with her glass, and the other woman grinned. 

Tension relieved, they chatted amicably for another minute or two before Ruby had to leave to take care of the other customers and of the kitchen, leaving Belle to nurse her iced tea and her own thoughts. She was still convinced that she had never seen Gold before yesterday, save for that encounter in the woods. _And that didn't even look like him_ , she reminded herself. The similarities were little more than a suggestion around the jawline and the shape of his eyes, nothing Belle could explain to another person. Hell, she could barely explain it to herself.

Belle brought her plate to the counter herself after she was done to say goodbye to Ruby. "Let me know if you need any more help around the house," Ruby told her. "Believe me, it feels less like work when you have someone to talk to."

"I know," Belle said. "It's just that I'd like to go through all the stuff by myself first, and—" She stopped when she realised that Ruby was no longer listening to her and instead staring at a spot somewhere over her shoulder and a good way further back. Belle looked around and saw the young woman with dark hair who had just entered the diner, before glancing back at Ruby with a grin. "Ruby," she whispered. "You're drooling."

That, at least, gained her friend's attention. "I'm not!" Ruby hissed. She still touched the back of her hand to her mouth. "You are terrible!"

"Just trying to help." She glanced over her shoulder again. "And she's coming over." Belle shifted to the side a little and mouthed a 'good luck' at her friend.

"Hey there!" Ruby said brightly. "Can I take your order?" She sounded decidedly too chipper, but probably only to people who knew her. Belle pretended to busy herself with her phone and tried very hard to hide her grin. Watching Ruby around pretty girls could be highly entertaining.

"I heard there was a bed and breakfast attached to the diner," the stranger said hopefully. "Would you show me where to find it?"

"Of course!" Ruby replied. "My family runs it. You can check in from here, if you like. I'll just need your name."

"Thank you." The newcomer looked relieved. "Ah... my name is Mulan. Hua. Mulan Hua."

Ruby's eyebrows shot up, but she kept quiet with all the tactfulness of a girl who had heard the quip "are you taking that basket to your grandmother" one too many times in middle school. "All right, I'll just fetch you a pair of keys." She threw Belle a panicked 'what am I doing?' look on her way out, then disappeared.

"Very prompt service," Mulan commented. It sounded like she approved, at least.

Belle could hardly tell her that Ruby was trying to make a good impression, so she just said, "She likes a job well done."

"Do you know her?" Mulan asked, sitting down next to Belle.

"Since we were little." Belle shrugged. "But I've been away for a while. We're just getting to know each other again."

"Right." Mulan glanced in the direction Ruby had disappeared and nodded slowly. "I might have to stay for a few weeks. It's good to hear that the proprietor takes her work seriously." Belle decided not to mention that Ruby's grandmother was, in fact, the proprietor. It didn't make a difference, anyway. Granny took her work at least as seriously as Ruby did. 

Mulan didn't try to keep the conversation going after that, so Belle didn't attempt to, either. They sat in not-entirely-comfortable silence for a while, until Ruby returned.

Belle's attention drifted quickly while the two other women seemed to hit it off quite well. She was just about to make an excuse about walking home before it got dark outside, when she spotted a now vaguely familiar figure across the street from the diner. Mr Gold was walking like someone on their way to the dentist—grim determination paired with a pace that made clear he had no wish to actually reach his destination.

"Sorry," she said in Ruby's general direction. "I just remembered something."

"Take care!" Her friend spared her a brief glance and a smile, but it was clear that she was otherwise occupied. Good for her, Belle decided. 

She had another thought. "Hey, Ruby," she said. "Why don't you ask her if she wants to come along in two weeks?"

Ruby stared at her, clearly alarmed, but Belle didn't give her the chance to protest, instead hurrying out of the diner.

* * *

 

Gold, despite his cane and general slow walk, had already put some distance between them, which was probably for the best. Belle stayed back a few paces, making sure he wouldn't notice her immediately if he turned around. She followed him for a while, realising that technically, there was a term for what she was doing, and it was "stalking." But she was also firmly convinced that any rule that didn't make exceptions for people finding out what other people had done to their parents wasn't a rule worth following.

And if she repeated that to herself often enough, she'd probably even believe it.

It did help that Gold did not go back to his pawnshop or his home—where did the man live, anyway? did he just sleep at his place of business?—but rather steered out of town, still with a hard edge to his every move that looked nothing like a man on a relaxing walk. Belle even saw her own home—no, she reminded herself, her old family house; there was a difference—in the distance. "What are you doing out here?" she muttered. Nobody with good intentions went into the woods at this time of day. Including myself, Belle thought glumly. She was just glad that she'd put on somewhat decent shoes to wear while working. They weren't really made for off-road trekking through the undergrowth, but at least they didn't try to break her ankles on every second step.

Crossing the treeline turned out harder than Belle would have liked to admit. She didn't really have a _problem_ with forests, not the way she did with thunderstorms, but she had still spent the last years casually avoiding them.

 _You could just stop_ , Belle thought. _You could turn around, walk away, and go home._ She'd finish renovating the old house, and leave town in a couple of days. Nobody would stop her.

And she would never find out what happened to her mother.

The thought lay like a weight in her stomach until Belle shook herself to dislodge it. She was going to do this, and that was the end of that. If nothing came of it, she could still decide to give up. She definitely could.

By the time she stepped under the dark green canopy, Gold had nearly vanished in the distance, and Belle bit down a curse as she picked up her own pace. How the man managed to find his way in the nearly-twilit forest without so much as hesitating, never mind stumbling, Belle had no idea. She herself could barely spare a glance away from the ground beneath her feet if she didn't want to get caught on something, and she would have liked to think that she had at least a slight advantage in youthful agility over him. It was unfair, really.

 _Calm down_ , she chided herself. _He's hardly doing it for your benefit. Maybe he just knows these woods._ Which was not a comforting thought, either, since it made Belle realise that in her own best-case scenario she was following a man into a dark wood who, in her own best-case scenario, could turn out to be a cold-blooded kidnapper. And she was doing it alone. Without telling anyone, and nobody who would miss her if she disappeared.

She was just about to send a text message to Ruby—at least _someone_  should know where she had gone—when Gold stopped a few paces ahead of her. Belle froze instantly and thought about hiding behind a tree for a moment, before she realised there was no way to do so quietly. She felt silly, standing in the woods in her bright blue coat, easily picked out by anyone who even so much as glanced in her direction, but what else was she to do?

"If you wanted to talk," Gold said, voice carrying through the trees, "You just had to come to the shop. Business hours are between nine and four."

Belle swallowed and, for one brief, panicked moment, contemplated just running. But then she thought better of it. She had good reason to be here, after all. At least she'd told herself so, and if she didn't believe that... well, she did believe it, and that was all that mattered.

She straightened and stepped out of her not-at-all hiding place. _How did he even know I was here?_ part of her wondered as Gold turned around. He didn't look annoyed. He didn't even look tense, which was remarkable, considering he'd done so until less than ten seconds ago. He just seemed mildly curious.

"Ah, Miss... Belle, was it?" he asked. "I seem to recall your friend mentioning a name of that sort."

"French," she countered. "It's Belle French, actually."

If the name meant anything to him, he didn't show it. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said. "Again. Are you here to shout at me again?"

Belle felt heat rise into her cheeks, but she ignored the embarrassment as well as she could. "I remember you," she said, her tone accusatory. "From seven years ago."

"Six years and a little under ten months, if you want to be precise," he replied.

Belle stared, unsure if she had heard him right. "Did you... Did you just admit that that was you?" she asked.

"It seems rather pointless to deny it if you remember the encounter," he said. "I must say, I am impressed. Mortals tend to deny any contact with my kind as impossible and forget about it as soon as they can. What, I wonder, makes you so different?"

"Mortal?" she asked, slightly indignant. It had seemed perfectly natural for that strange, gold-scaled creature to call her "mortal girl", but Mr Gold looked so thoroughly, well, _human_  and used the word with such a dismissive tone that she felt oddly insulted. She didn't even want to get into the implications of the words "my kind", and how they very clearly separated him from the term "mortal". One impossibility at a time.

"Correct me if I am wrong, Miss French, but most humans tend to die after living a certain amount of years, am I wrong?"

A flash of hospital beds and drawn curtains passed through Belle's head and her stomach clenched at the memory. "No," she said, voice slightly hoarse. "You aren't."

"The description seems accurate, then." He regarded her thoughtfully. "Now. Are you going to tell me why you followed a perfect stranger into the middle of the woods at night?"

"I want to know what you did to my mother." The words came out more sullen than she had intended, but Belle fixed her gaze on Gold's eyes; brown and strikingly large in his thin face.

"I assure you, I never saw, nevermind harmed her," he said, solemnly.

"And what? I'm supposed to just believe that because you said it?"

"Lying is a dangerous thing," Gold said. "I avoid it whenever I can."

"That still doesn't mean you're telling the truth."

A grin, thin as if cut with a knife, flashed across his face. "Well observed, Miss French. So what is your next step going to be? Report me to the authorities?"

Belle gritted her teeth. No, of course not. If she told them that Mr Gold—who everyone insisted had lived here for longer than Belle had been alive—was in truth some inhuman being who may or may not have kidnapped her mother... well, it wasn't him who would get in trouble with the law. Graham was a decent person, as these things went, but this would be too much even for him.

Gold must have suspected at least part of what she thought, because he said, "Maybe I can help you. Family is important, after all. You say your mother disappeared on the same day that we met?"

Belle nodded silently.

"Well, you are in luck, then. Of a sort. I might know of a way to get her back."

"I... what do you mean "get her back"?" Belle asked. "Are you saying—"

"That she might still be alive? Yes, indeed." He shrugged. "Odd things happen around All Hallow's Eve. Mortals slip through the cracks between worlds, and sometimes they get... stuck there."

That didn't make any sense. Her mother had been gone for seven years; enough time to declare someone legally dead in nearly every state. The only reason they hadn't done it was her father's stubborn refusal to accept the facts and move on. _He might have been right_ , Belle thought, her stomach turning over with a sick mixture of hope and horrified realisation. But she said nothing of that. Instead, she asked, "Is that what happened to me?"

Gold raised his eyebrows. "Pardon?"

"When we met. Did I "slip between worlds", too?"

"Not quite. You used a door that was left open rather carelessly. I simply pushed you back through before you could attract the wrong kind of attention." Gold shook his head. "Now, do you want my help or not?"

Belle narrowed her eyes at him. "What do you want in return?"

Rather than be insulted by the implication, Gold smiled again. "Straight to business. I like it." His voice pitched up oddly at the last words, but Belle decided not to comment. "It's quite easy, really. I will help you to find your mother, and you," he pointed at her with an exaggerated gesture, "will do a favour for me," he pointed back at himself, "in return."

"What sort of favour?" Belle asked. That sounded decidedly fishy.

"Nothing terrible," Gold assured her. "Nothing that would harm you or anyone you know." He must have read some of her thoughts in her expression because he giggled—actually _giggled_ —at her. "Oh, please, do not be alarmed. I have no... personal interest in you. This is simply about you getting into a place someone like me cannot enter by myself."

That still didn't sound excellent, but even a chance of getting her mother back seemed well worth the risk. "All right," she said. "Help me get her back and you have yourself a deal." She put out her hand to him, and Gold took it in his. His grip felt warm and firm, and not at all unpleasant.

"Then follow me, Miss French," he said.

They walked further into the forest. Belle still had to hurry to keep pace with Gold, who had picked up his cane at some point and was now carrying it in one hand. Belle thought to ask him about it, but it seemed rather personal. After a while, she noticed something: rather than going in a straight line, Gold would walk in wide circles and odd zig-zag patterns. When he stopped at a particularly thick tree and rounded it twice, Belle stopped in her tracks. "Are we lost?" she asked.

Gold stopped walking. "I'm sorry?"

"You are running around a tree," Belle said. "You can tell me if we're lost; I've got a GPS." To demonstrate, she took her phone out of her pocket, and only now remembered that she'd never actually sent that text to Ruby. The screen now showed a despondent little "No Signal", which made the point moot, she supposed.

"Oh, I'm not lost." He giggled again and the sound still seemed as incongruous with his appearance as the first had. "I just need to convince the door to open for you."

"Which door?"

Gold shook his head. "Easier to show you. Just walk around the tree three times."

Still sceptical, Belle followed his instruction. She felt extraordinarily silly, running in circles like this. Worse, this wasn't even the strangest thing she had done today. When she finished her third turn, she glanced at Gold with an expression that hopefully asked, "now what?". He simply pointed ahead and when Belle followed the gesture with her eyes, she gasped.

Right in front of her, in the middle of a forest she'd lived next to her whole childhood, in a place she knew like the back of her hand, stood a mansion Belle had never seen before. It couldn't be a new building—it was run down and more than that, it looked _old_ , more than anything else Belle had ever seen in Storybrooke. As if the house had been here long before the town was founded, and would still be there long after it was gone.

"How often do you actually look at the back of your hand, anyway?"

"Excuse me?" Gold said, clearly perplexed.

"Nothing." Belle shook her head to gather her thoughts. "It's empty," she said.

"From this side, it is," Gold agreed. "Inside, the fey Court of Night is celebrating the coming end of summer with a ball."

"A ball?" Belle asked. For a brief, ridiculous moment she wished she had worn something slightly more presentable. 

"Only a small one, as they reckon these things." Gold didn't sound particularly impressed, himself. Though Belle suspected it had nothing to do with the size of the festivities. "You haven't asked the obvious question," he added.

Belle pressed her lips together for a moment before she gave up. "All right. What do you mean by "fae"?"

Gold simply smiled at her. He still looked entirely like himself, but in that brief flash, Belle caught a glimpse of teeth that were just slightly too sharp to belong in a human mouth. "Welcome to Faerie, Miss French." He held out his arm.

Belle stared at it. "No," she said, despite the sudden dryness of her throat. "I'm going in there by myself, thank you."

"As you like." His expression was impossible to read as he drew back from her. "Remember, you are my guest; not theirs. Do not eat or drink anything," he said. "Do not make any promises, do not tell any lies, and, most importantly, do not join in the dance."

Belle didn't have time to ask questions, because he stepped through the door and vanished. "Wait!" she ran in after him, where bright, glittering light flooded over her in an instant, and a din of chattering voices crashed down over her.


	3. Chapter 3

It took a moment for Belle's eyes to adjust to the lights and while she stood in place, stunned, she heard the door swing shut behind her. She was about to turn around and look at it, but she caught sight of the room, and in that moment never wanted to look away again.

Rather than the empty, ruined living space she had seen from the outside, a great hall lay in front of her. Dark wooden pillars curved up into a high— _impossibly_ high, the entire house hadn't been this tall from the outside!—ceiling of an even darker stone, and it should have felt oppressive, but something in the way the chandeliers cast their glittering light kept the space wide open in a way that reminded Belle of sitting under the starlit sky far away from the city. And the place was far from empty. There were people _everywhere_. People Belle had never seen in her life, that much was certain, because she would have remembered the man with the bright yellow eyes, or the woman with green skin, or the boy with hair that shone with the metallic gleam of real spun gold. No-one Belle had ever met had been as impossibly pale as the woman in the far corner, with hair like freshly-fallen snow. No human had ever been.

The thought wasn't as bizarre as it should have been. Belle felt a lot like she had used up all her disbelief for the day, and all that was left for this impossible otherworldly hall was a faint sense of bemusement that drowned in her intense fascination. She drifted further into the room, almost without meaning to, and the more she saw, the more she realised that these strange, inhuman people were… well, just people. They stood in small groups, chatting to one another. Some had sat down in chairs, and Belle caught one short, lithe young woman with a pair of dragonfly wings massaging her bare feet, shoes discarded on the floor next to her. Belle wanted to talk to her, but the flow of the crowd took her away too quickly.

Then she reached the dance floor and every thought of conversation left her mind. Music that had been muted by the crowd before washed over her and took every worry and care with it. It was almost like a living creature, something that existed on its own, whether the musicians at the edges of the floor played their instruments or not. They just let everybody else hear it.

 _Come_ , it whispered to Belle. _Dance with me._

Others already did. The dance floor was filled with couples and single dancers, circling around each other in a pattern that was as unpredictable as it was beautiful. Belle stared at it with wide eyes, and knew that there had to be a logic to it, some deeper meaning to the dance that she couldn't understand just yet, but she only had to step out onto the floor. Her feet already carried her forward, drawn by the music, and driven by her body's need to move, to join the dance, because this was all that mattered, all she had ever wanted, all she—

"What did I _just_  tell you?"

Someone grabbed her by the shoulder, dragging her away from the dance floor and back into what passed for reality around here. Belle blinked in confusion, her thoughts still sluggish and light from the enticing music. It hovered right at the edge of her perception, ready to embrace her the moment she decided to just let go and drift away. Then Belle recognised Gold, and gaped.

Tight, almost curly waves framed a still painfully thin face covered in fine, golden scales, not unlike those of a snake. Belle couldn't tear her eyes away and found her gaze returned by a pair of dark golden eyes that looked like nothing human ever had. And yet... "So it _is_  you," she whispered, mostly to herself.

"In the flesh." He sketched an elaborate bow. "Rumplestiltskin, at your service. At least for the duration of this evening."

"That is _not_  your name," Belle blurted, barely containing a laugh.

Gold straightened, looking slightly insulted. "Why not?"

"Because that's—" Belle stopped when she realised that she was about to say "that's just a fairytale" while standing in the middle of an impossible fairy ballroom, surrounded by fairy dancers. There was rationality and then there was pig-headedness in the face of facts. She tried to stay away from the latter. "Nevermind. Can I still call you "Gold"?"

"You can do whatever you wish, but while we are here, there is no need to use false names, Miss French." A shadow crossed his face, and Belle wondered briefly, how often—or rarely—he'd heard his real name in the last years.

"All right, then, Rumplestiltskin." She let him lead her away from the dance, his hand on her arm a steadying presence against the pull of the music. Belle still didn't dare look back. "Why can't I join in?" she asked.

"Oh, you can," Rumplestiltskin said bitterly. "There are stories about mortals who went away to dance with the fairies and some of them even come back; even if it is a century or two later."

Something about the matter-of-fact tone he used while talking about these fantastical things sent a shiver down Belle's spine. He was not trying to be dramatic; this was just how this world worked. "What do we do now?" she asked, feeling decidedly sobered.

" _You_  are going to stay right here," he said, "while I find someone who still owes me a favour to represent you at an audience with the Queen."

"Wait." Belle frowned. "I thought you were going to do that."

He snorted. "That would be unwise for several reasons. I will still assist you, but it would be better for both of us not to be obviously connected right now."

Before Belle could voice any further protests, he turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving her standing somewhat awkwardly at the sidelines. She looked around for something to do, but her gaze kept drifting to the dance floor, and each time it did, looking away became harder. Gritting her teeth against the pull of the music, she picked a spot across the room and stared at it. Odd, how easily bored she became while standing in a magical fairy ballroom inside an impossible house in the middle of the woods. 

The thought made Belle grin and she dared another glance around the room, hoping to maybe catch sight of Rumplestiltskin again, but instead only found herself staring right into the face of a woman with a smile fixed on blood-red lips that put unpleasant images of cats and mice into Belle's head.

"Now, how did you find your way here?" the woman asked, stepping closer. She wasn't much taller than Belle, even with her hair in a high ponytail, but she _stood_  tall in a way that had nothing to do with physical height. "This is no place for little mortal girls."

Belle pressed her lips together. "Woman, actually," she said. "And I was invited." Which wasn't a lie. She suspected that Rumplestiltskin may not have been expected at the festivities himself, but he _did_  invite her to come.

"The offer must have come on very short notice," the other woman said, a quick flick of her eyes taking in Belle's entirely un-ballgown-like skirt and warm coat. "Who stole you away, mortal girl?"

"Nobody stole me, I came here by myself." Belle glared at the other woman and took a step towards her. "And my name is Belle. I'll thank you to use it."

"And you have _fire_!" The other woman laughed. "Maybe I will keep you." She, too, stepped closer to Belle, who had to force herself not to back away. She wasn't sure how serious this strange woman was, but she knew that running from a predator was always a bad idea.

"Really, Regina, you should know better than to play with your food." As abruptly as he had vanished, Rumplestiltskin reappeared. He didn't exactly step between Belle and the other woman, but his position slightly to her side still said "no, look at _me_ ", and it seemed Regina was only too happy to oblige.

"So you _did_  find your way here," she said. "I must say, I am surprised."

"The Queen did extend an invitation," Rumplestiltskin replied airily. "And this young woman is my guest so I would thank you to leave her be."

Belle frowned, and tried to catch his eye, hoping for an explanation. Wasn't this exactly the association he'd been trying to avoid? He didn't so much as glance at her direction, however, and Belle decided not to force the issue in front of this "Regina", who clearly had her own bone to pick with Rumplestiltskin.

Right now, her face had hardened into a mask that did a bad job of concealing her anger. "Of course not," she all but snarled. "Am I to assume that you have come to present yourself at Court?"

Rumplestiltskin's back stiffened slightly, but his voice sounded perfectly calm as he replied, "Why else would I be here?"

Even Belle could hear the attempt at evasion in those words, and so, clearly, did Regina, because a triumphant smile split her lips. "Then you will not mind waiting for her with me," she said. "She should be here at any moment."

And that, apparently, was that. Rumplestiltskin jerked his head in a nod and motioned for Belle to stand closer to him.

"I thought we were trying not to be seen together," she whispered.

"Plans change." He stared straight ahead, dark golden eyes darting around as if looking for an exit. Belle wanted to ask what he was so afraid of, but the question seemed decidedly too personal, especially with Regina still standing right next to them.

Before Belle could find another way to phrase her question, a hush fell over the room, and a strange tension started building behind her eyes. She pressed the heel of one hand against her head, in an attempt to dispel it, and when she looked up, she saw her.

Nobody had to tell Belle that the woman who had just entered the room was the queen of this place. She fit in the room as if it had been built around her; for all Belle knew, it had been. She stood tall among the other fae, and like a wave, they bowed to her. Belle felt the urge to follow suit, and only stopped when Rumplestiltskin put a hand on her arm. "Don't," he whispered. "You are not one of her subjects."

His words grounded Belle and the pressure in her head lifted the longer his hand stayed on her arm. The newcomer still looked beautiful, but not like the awe-inspiring creature Belle had seen only moments before. "Is that her?" she asked softly.

"Indeed it is. The Queen of the Court of Night—more widely known as the Black Fairy." Rumplestiltskin's lip curled with something like distaste. "She does love a dramatic entrance."

"The Court of Night is now in session." The Queen didn't call out the words and she didn't need to; her voice still carried to every corner of the hall as if she had been standing right there herself. Belle tried not to look at her directly. Something about the sight of her felt similar to the dance floor and the music she had so narrowly escaped.

She still noticed when the queen looked their way, and when she came closer, Rumplestiltskin pulled his hand away from Belle's arm. It left a cold spot and she pulled the arm closer to her body, suppressing a shiver. Next to her, Rumplestiltskin dropped into a bow—shallower than the other fae, if Belle was any judge—and said, "Your Majesty. Your presence honours us."

Belle swallowed against her suddenly dry throat and remained silent. Up close, the Black Fairy was still beautiful, but there was an undeniable threat to that beauty. Her eyes, a deep, solid black that stretched from lid to lid with no iris or pupil visible, seemed to stare right through Belle as she addressed her companion. "Welcome to Our Court, Rumplestiltskin." For such an inhuman creature, her voice sounded surprisingly pleasant, almost melodious. "Or would you prefer "Dark One"? It is difficult to keep track, sometimes."

Now _that_  was a worrying title if Belle had ever heard one. She glanced at Rumplestiltskin, who only smiled thinly. "Either will do," he said, and added, stiffly, "your Majesty."

"Word reached Us that you have been bringing mortals to this place. Do you care to explain yourself, Dark One?"

Belle's stomach was still queasy at the presence of the queen, but she still spoke up. She was good and tired of everyone assuming that her coming here had somehow been someone else's decision. "Nobody _brought_  me," she said, stepping around Rumplestiltskin. "I came because I wanted to."

Behind her, Rumplestiltskin inhaled sharply. "She wants to enter the Dreaming Place," he said quickly. "And asks for use of the Road of Trials." He had stepped out behind her, but didn't put himself between her and the Black Fairy again, instead stopping right next to her.

Whispers and muttering flared up at his words, and the queen had to wait until they had died down. "Does she now?" Her smile was cold. "My, what a strange, old-fashioned mortal you have found there. They so rarely visit us any more. And who is it you wish to reclaim from us, mortal girl?"

"My name," Belle said, annoyance suddenly flaring into anger and burning away any lingering fear, "is Belle. And I want my mother back!" Her words echoed around her, almost the same way the queen's had done earlier. Eyes turned towards her. _All_ eyes turned towards her. Belle's head buzzed and a small, still-terrified part of her noted that this was probably _not_  the way most people spoke to a queen.

 _I don't care_ , Belle decided and, to her surprise, found it true. She didn't care. This evening had been nothing but impossibilities and madness, but if there was any chance that she could see her mother again, she wouldn't let something ridiculous like protocol stop her.

The queen's face had tightened at her words. "You must miss her terribly, to brave the way into faerie for her sake. Mortals do not fare well in this world."

The buzzing in Belle's head intensified. The threat in those words was clear, but she refused to back down.

"Belle is here under my protection, your Majesty." Rumplestiltskin sounded almost disinterested. "And as much a guest at this Court as I am. Surely, you would not make an oath-breaker of me, would you?"

"We never threatened harm to her," the queen said. Which was technically true, but anyone who could read between the lines knew better than that. 

"Of course not," Rumplestiltskin replied. "This is your court, after all. A true queen would hardly need to threaten." Apparently, Belle was not the only one who didn't care how they spoke to royalty. She glanced at Rumplestiltskin, who still wore that disinterested look on his face that belied the steel in his eyes. "Do you accept Belle's claim?" he asked.

"We do." The queen focused on Belle again. "Her first trial is on the coming night of the full moon. Who among this Court will be her guide?"

The pause after her question stretched, until the silence felt like a physical presence. Belle glanced at Rumplestiltskin, who didn't look at her, instead focusing all his attention on the queen. "I will," he said, finally. A smile cut his lips apart, thin as a blade, and not nearly as warm. "By right of blood, I claim a place at this Court." He all but spat out the words.

A step. A turn. Belle was still watching the same dance, but something had changed, and she suspected that it was the queen's turn to lead. "Then welcome to Our Court, Rumplestiltskin," she said.

"Your Majesty." He bowed a third time, deeply, before he straightened. "Your generosity is overwhelming, as always. And I would not dream of keeping you from important matters of state any longer. If you will excuse us?"

"Of course." The queen nodded to them, before turning to Regina. "Escort them to the exit. Make sure they do not get lost."

That, at least, Belle could decipher immediately. There were only so many semi-polite ways to say "Make sure they don't snoop around", apparently.

"I will." Regina gestured for them to follow her, as the queen turned around and left, the crowd rapidly closing behind her.

Belle stood in place, still staring after her, when Rumplestiltskin's hand closed around her wrist. "Come on," he said. His voice sounded hoarse, much more like Gold's had. "We should not linger."

Belle let him drag her towards the exit, occasionally looking over her shoulder to see where the queen had gone. It felt dangerous to turn her back to that creature. They reached the door without further incident. Regina looked decidedly put off, although there was a hint of triumph in her voice when she said, "I didn't think that she would get you to stay on that easily."

"I gave my word," Rumplestiltskin said simply.

"And you would never dream to dodge a responsibility like that, of course." Regina held up one hand. "Don't even try to answer that. You two deserve one another." She glanced at Belle, as if to add something, then shook her head and walked away.

"She really doesn't like you," Belle mused.

Rumplestiltskin laughed. "Well spotted."

"Thank you."

A variety of emotions played across his face. "Don't," he said finally. "I am not doing any of this for you."

"Maybe." Belle shrugged. "I know we have a deal. But you still helped me, so... thank you."

Rumplestiltskin scoffed. "Oh, don't flatter yourself. I had little choice if I wanted to stay at court; you just happened to get lucky. Don't count on a repeat performance."

"All right, I won't!" Why did the man insist on being impossible? Just a moment ago, he had clearly acted against his better judgment to help her, and now... She shook her head and stepped around him to leave this room. She desperately needed some fresh air.

"Wait." Rumplestiltskin put out an arm that didn't quite touch her, but still stopped her from leaving the room.

"What?" she asked, her voice betraying her fraying temper. "I thought we had to go?"

"We do, but you should know that returning to your world might be... disorienting." He made a fluttering gesture with one hand. "I should probably bring you home."

Belle suppressed a bitter laugh. "Thank you, but I can find my own way. And you owe me an explanation. Several, in fact. I'm not going anywhere before I have those." 

"And afterwards, you are going to walk the entire way back by yourself, I presume. Through the woods. At night."

Belle glanced outside. It was pitch dark by now and the mere thought of walking through a dark wood by herself with only her phone's flashlight for company made her shudder. Still, she didn't reply immediately, her pride fighting an embittered battle against her fear.

After a long pause, Rumplestiltskin said, "I need to get back to my shop. Separating now would be ridiculous if we are going the same way to the edge of the wood. And if you feel like talking while we do, we can do that, as well."

That sounded entirely reasonable, but Belle still took another moment before she nodded. "All right." No need to be stubborn, she supposed. She still couldn't stop herself from saying, "If it makes you feel better…"

He very nearly laughed, she was sure. The sound was very different from his earlier giggles—slightly deeper and much more natural-sounding. Belle thought she could get used to it.

They walked together; somewhere between the door and the tree they had rounded to reach the Court, Rumplestiltskin produced his—or maybe it was Gold's—walking cane again, leaning on it more and more as they moved forward. Belle wanted to ask why he even needed it, but decided against it.

Instead, she settled for, "So what did you mean by "disorienting"?"

"You are about to find out."

Belle was about to get annoyed with him—again—when they finished their third circle around the tree. Around her, the world _shifted_  ever so slightly, and for a moment, she felt like she was floating.

Then the horizon tilted and she collapsed to the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

Belle barely remembered getting up again, and nothing of the way home except for a low voice muttering encouraging words into her ear the entire way. Her head felt fit to float away at any moment, and her limbs seemed to belong to a different person entirely. One that had little to do with Belle and certainly wasn't going out of their way to coordinate her legs into something as mundane as walking.

"I assume this is your home?"

The word 'home' dragged Belle back into her body for long enough to form a full thought in her mind. She nodded. "Fuzzy," she said. It came out less like a word and more like a garbled hiss of air, but her companion seemed to understand nonetheless.

"Not surprising," he said. "It's called "faestruck". That happens when mortals come too close to faerie or a large number of its..." He trailed off. "Never mind. You won't understand a word in ten, anyway."

"Half," Belle countered. "Least."

Gold—no, Rumplestiltskin, his name was Rumplestiltskin—laughed again, and Belle felt strangely proud for getting him to make that sound twice in one evening. He probably didn't do a whole lot of laughing, she mused. "I beg your pardon, then. But I still think you should go to bed. Sleep this off."

Belle shook her head as vehemently as she dared. It made the world spin, but she had to make her point. "Won't," she huffed. "You'll go."

"Beg pardon?"

"Said you..." She frowned, trying to concentrate. "Tell me. Explain." If she went to bed now, he was going to leave, and she would never get her answers.

He snorted. "I'm not some fickle mortal who makes a promise that he intends to break in the same night. I announced before the whole Court that I would help you through the trials. Do you think I will go back on that?"

"Answers," Belle insisted. "Now." She pulled away from him and instantly the world lurched sideways once more. Before she could hit the ground, however, a hand grabbed her by the arm and hauled her upright again.

"All right," Rumplestiltskin said. "You will get your answers. But you should get inside, first."

Between the two of them, they managed to manoeuvre Belle onto the couch, where Rumplestiltskin left her with the instruction to "Wait here."

She wanted to protest, but her tongue was not in the mood to cooperate, and so Belle sat there, dazed and wondering if the events of tonight would make more sense in the morning. "Probably not," she decided.

"Pardon?" Rumplestiltskin had returned with a steaming mug that he held in one hand, arm extended as far as he could as he stepped very carefully across the living room.

The sight was so ridiculous that Belle had to giggle. "Does it bite?" she asked.

"It might as well," he said, lips pressed together. "I made it from rountree leaves and will burn the magic right out of you. Or just burn _me_ , if I spill it." He placed the mug in front of her and gestured, a little awkwardly. "Drink."

She did. The tea barely tasted of anything, but seconds after drinking it, a tingling started to spread through her body, as if blood were rushing through it after circulation had been cut off for a long time. It was almost intense enough to be painful, and Belle kept very still until the feeling passed, leaving behind only a faint but growing headache. "I, um..." She licked her lips. "What was that?"

"Like I said, it burned the remaining magic out of you," Rumplestiltskin told her. At some point, he must have changed back into his suit, because he was wearing it now. To all the world, he looked once more like Mr Gold. "A good night's sleep would have done the same, and without the hangover, but you seemed rather determined to have a conversation."

"How does your face change?" blurted Belle before she could stop herself. It was strange, she thought, how much more familiar Gold's features already seemed, even though his fae appearance had haunted her thoughts for so many years. Maybe because he seemed more himself, even behind the mask. Belle stared down at her half-empty mug and downed the rest of the tea. Apparently, she was still a little loopy.

"Magic," Rumplestiltskin replied simply. "It's only a simple glamour, and as long as I don't dissolve and rebuild it too often, it barely takes any effort at all to sustain."

"Right. Magic." Belle nodded, not sure what else she had been expecting. "Next question: what exactly is this Road of Trials?" The name still didn't inspire much confidence, but Belle had no illusions: if this was a chance to get her mother back—the mere thought still sounded ridiculous, even in her own head—she'd take it, no matter what. Still, if nothing else, she wanted to walk into this with open eyes.

"There are three different roads that lead to the Dreaming Place," Rumplestiltskin said. Clearly, he saw the next question in her eyes, because he raised one hand. "One thing at a time. The first road, and the oldest one, is the Children's Road. Any child can find it, if they are determined enough, or lost enough." He sounded bitter. "That road rarely leads in both directions. Children that go to the Dreaming Place tend to stay there."

Belle shuddered, a procession of small, silent figures passing before her inner eye, all of them disappearing into the dark wood and she had to wonder how many stories of children vanishing into strange worlds and only coming back by chance were based on this "Children's Road".

"The second is the Road of Songs," Rumplestiltskin continued. "It can be opened with enough magic, and is safe for the fae to travel—at least in large groups. The Hunt often rides it to bring its quarry there."

Belle frowned. "The Hunt?"

"It's very important to bring in new dreamers," Rumplestiltskin said, with a joyless sort of humour. "The fae would rather not rely on the occasional lost child that stumbles its way there; the Hunt rides once a year and... takes people away."

Silence stretched between them. "That's what happened to my mother, isn't it?" Belle asked, the words catching in her throat on the way out.

Rumplestiltskin didn't quite meet her eyes. "Very likely. It's what would have happened to you, had we not met." Something haunted flashed in his eyes. "And that leads us to the last road, for those mortals who are too old or too careful to travel the children's road. Those who have enough cause and drive to visit the Dreaming Place, can take the third road. The Road of Trials. Three doors. Three trials. If the mortal passes them all, they are granted passage, together with anyone they choose to take along."

"Is that what our deal was about?" Belle asked. "Taking you with me to the Dreaming Place?"

A smirk crossed Rumplestiltskin's face. "I see you have been paying attention," he said. "The Dreaming Place is the oldest part of Faerie. Many say that the dreamers there are the source of all magic—it certainly is a place of great power, and potentially very useful to those who know how to wield it."

"And that's what you're after?" Belle asked. "Power?" It sounded plausible enough; he was, after all, the sort who got into insult matches with monarchs. That was not the type of person who would shun any chance to tilt the balance in their favour. And yet, it didn't quite seem to fit. Something in the way he avoided her eyes when he spoke about the Dreaming Place, and how his gaze seemed to fix on something very far away when he did it told Belle that she wasn't getting the whole story.

"What else would it be, dearie?" Rumplestiltskin asked. That cold, thin smile was back and Belle decided not to push the matter any further. She had already seen that he could dance around a direct answer for as long as he wanted without ever actually lying. Which brought her to another question.

"You said you don't like to lie," she said. "Why?"

"It's impolite," he replied immediately, face unmoved.

Belle narrowed her eyes at him. "Was that a joke?" she asked.

"Why would you think that?"

"I just know," she said. Explaining that she could see the smile dancing right behind his eyes would have steered this conversation along an even stranger path than it was already on, and she was starting to get tired. "You made a joke."

"Quite possibly. But to answer your question: lying is difficult for the fae, especially to people who have offered us hospitality. And since I am technically a guest in your lovely town..."

"That must have been difficult," Belle mused. "Pretending to always have lived here if you can't lie about it."

"Much easier than you'd think." He didn't entirely happy about it. "Mortals are very good at filling the gaps in any story with whatever they'd like to believe the most."

"Still," Belle said. "You must have been lonely."

As if the words had flipped a switch, his face closed off and Belle could have kicked herself. "It was necessary," he said. "I couldn't very well wait out the years in Faerie. And the good people of Storybrooke were willing enough to leave me alone." _Unlike some_ , said the glare he shot at her.

Belle ignored the look. "Why couldn't you stay in Faerie?" she asked. "Why do you hate the Queen so much?"

"You might want to start calling her the Black Fairy," Rumplestiltskin told her. "Names have power, and if you use her title, you acknowledge an authority she does not have over you."

"You didn't answer my question," Belle said, suppressing a yawn. What time was it, anyway? It felt like she'd been in Faerie for hours, while hardly spending any time there at all. "Or why she calls you "The Dark One"."

"That is just another title," Rumplestiltskin said. "And not one I care for overmuch. Let us say that she was... unhappy with me and that she took something precious from me in retaliation."

"And now you want it back?" Keeping her eyes open was a struggle and Belle threw a worried glance at the empty mug she was still holding. "What did you put in there?"

"Nothing." Rumplestiltskin reached over and plucked the mug from her hands. "The tea only burned the magic from your body, it did not reverse the strain you put on it in the first place. You're simply very tired."

"'m not," Belle said, more as a matter of principle than out of true conviction.

"Of course not." Warm, slightly stiff cloth wrapped around Belle's upper body and she let herself sink back on the couch. As if from a long distance away, she heard a low, "Good night, Miss French."

##

The morning sun found Belle still sleeping on the couch. It took her some time to get up, her head pounding with every movement, and her limbs heavy with sleep. The events of last night were blurry and unfocused in her head, and the more she thought about them, the more they slipped from her grasp, like a dream fading away in the light of day. Her only indication that she hadn't just nodded off at home and made it all up was the suit jacket that had slid to the ground sometime during the night. She picked it up, the cloth soft under her fingers, and looked around as if she would find Gold—no, she reminded herself, _Rumplestiltskin_ —sitting in her living room. Instead, she noticed a note on the coffee table. She recognised the paper from the notepad in the kitchen, but not the elegant hand that had written on it:

_Ms French. I suspect you have many questions, but I do not have the space to answer them all. You will hopefully still remember the more improbable parts of last night when you read this. Yes, you went to Faerie and yes, we made a deal to help you find your mother. Your mind will try to reject these memories. DO NOT LET IT!_

Those four words were underscored three times, the last line pressing a hole into the paper. With raised eyebrows, Belle kept reading.

_I have matters to attend to. Do not try to find me before the night of your first Trial. Then, find me at the edge of the woods right before midnight. Do not be late._

_Sincerely,_

_R_

_PS: Keep the jacket. I have others._

And that, it seemed, was that. Belle sat down on the couch again, reading through the note twice more, before stowing it away in her bag and went for a shower. She hung the jacket over the back of the couch, unsure what else to do with it. It didn't exactly go with her wardrobe.

She tried to make progress with cleaning the house, but kept getting distracted. Again and again, she went over the events of last night—following Gold into the forest, going to the ball, meeting... her train of thought got derailed more than once. It all seemed too fantastical and a note, a jacket, and an empty mug in her sink didn't seem like enough proof to make it plausible. _Do not let it!_ Belle began to understand why Rumplestiltskin had written those words. She wondered how he had known.

More than once, she found herself standing in the middle of the living room, with no recollection how or why she'd gotten there, and ended up reading the note once again. And every time, her stomach clenched when she saw the words "find your mother". It didn't seem possible. Belle had done her grieving—or whatever version of it she could in a strange city with her father trying to pretend that he'd never had a wife—and she'd come back to Storybrooke to put the past to rest, rather than dig into it again.

 _Then why did you follow him?_  she asked herself. And however much she tried, she could not find an answer.

And she still didn't know what these "trials" were supposed to be. Thoughts of children's stories and old mythology flashed through her mind, none of them helpful and all of them worrying, but she pushed the rising panic down. No matter how bad they were, she would agree to the deal again in a heartbeat, if it meant having her mother back.

Do not try to find me before the night of the new moon.

There, at least, was something she could do. Belle didn't have an analogue calendar anymore, but a quick online search yielded a calendar with the moon phases quickly enough. She frowned at it in dismay—the night of the full moon was the same night as Ruby's girls' night. For a moment, Belle sat there, before quietly chuckling to herself—of all the things she could worry about, this seemed almost delightfully trivial. Still, she would have to cancel her plans with Ruby, and the prospect did make her heart sink a little. She would have liked to catch up with her friends.

Some time into the early afternoon, Belle gave up on getting any work done on the house and pulled on her coat to go back to town. A walk would clear her mind, at least.

Ruby waved at her from the door of the diner, and Belle smiled almost involuntarily. She _had_  missed this.

"Out so early?" Ruby asked, a playful grin tugging at the edge of her mouth. "I thought you had work to do."

"I really couldn't concentrate," Belle admitted. "Tried to put the screwdriver in the fridge. _Twice_. So I gave up and went for a walk."

Ruby laughed, and motioned for Belle to follow her into the diner.

"So," Belle asked, "How did it go?"

"How did what go?" Ruby suddenly seemed very interested in collecting dirty dishes from various tables.

"Oh, come on." Belle grabbed a few plates of her own and followed Ruby into the kitchen. "Please tell me you asked her out, at least."

Ruby busied herself with loading the dishwasher for a little while longer, and Belle patiently handed her plates and glasses. She knew her friend would talk sooner or later—she wasn't the closed-off kind.

"All right, yes, I did," Ruby said, straightening finally. "Sort of. I asked her to come along to girls' night."

Belle beamed at her. "That's great! What did she say?"

Ruby smoothed out her skirt, clearly suppressing another smile. "She said she'd love that." She glanced at Belle. "Do you mind? That I'm bringing a date, I mean?"

"Why? I suggested it."

"Probably not an ideal first date," Ruby mused. "But I think she liked the idea."

"Less pressure," Belle suggested. "And she gets to meet people." She hesitated for a moment, remembering that _she_  wouldn't be able to go out with the others. _Well, you could_ , she thought, _as long as you're back home by midnight._  And it _would_  be good to see her old friends and let loose a little.

"Something wrong?" Ruby asked.

"No, just thinking." Belle smiled broadly at her. "I'm looking forward to seeing all of you again."

Ruby's face lit up in an answering smile. "Great!" They talked for another minute or so, agreeing to drive out to the garage the next day to fetch Belle's luckless Cavalier, before Ruby excused herself to resume her shift. Belle sat down at the bar with an iced tea, absentmindedly stirring the ice cubes until she noticed someone standing on the other side of the bar. Belle looked up at the older woman with a tired smile. "Hello, Granny."

"The house giving you trouble?" Granny asked, not much one for unnecessary pleasantries. Belle supposed that anyone who'd babysat you when you were literally still in diapers had earned brusqueness privileges for the rest of their lives.

"Some," she admitted. "I'm not getting much done."

"You could always hire someone," Granny suggested. "Do you want fresh ice for that?"

Belle looked down at her tea and shook her head before taking a sip. "It's not that I can't do it, I just can't seem to concentrate."

She could feel the older woman's eyes on her. "That's what I meant," Granny said. "You don't _have_ to do this by yourself."

"I think I do." Belle still didn't look up from her drink. "Otherwise I'll never..." What? Be able to move on? She might not have to, now. So why was she so insistent on renovating the house by herself? Her savings didn't amount to much, but the house was in much better condition than she had feared—she could hire someone to clean it up and probably sell at a tidy profit. Instead of exploring those thoughts any further, Belle looked up at Granny. "Granny... do you know anything about the mansion in the woods?"

Granny stopped counting through her register and looked sharply at Belle, who felt her throat grow tight. She'd thought about this a while. No matter how well-hidden the house was, she couldn't be the first person to go there. In fact, if Rumplestiltskin was to be believed, she'd already stumbled into Faerie twice, the first time without even trying. And if anyone knew about strange stories from the town's past, Granny was an excellent place to start. The older woman might have had a very no-nonsense attitude about most things in life, but that didn't mean that she didn't listen to people.

"Why'd you want to know about that?" asked Granny, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

So she _did_  know something. Belle cleared her throat. "I've just heard stories, you know. About a house out in the woods, which is weird, because I've never seen one, and I've spent a lot of time in there. But there's talk about people disappearing there, and..." She shrugged. "I don't know. It sounded interesting." Immediately, Granny's look softened, and Belle felt bad for manipulating her like that. But it was only half a lie, she reminded herself. She _did_  know that people disappeared in these woods, and she was pretty sure that the fae had something to do with it, even if she'd come by the information in a very different way than she implied.

"Well," Granny began, "there have always been stories. I don't pay much attention to that sort of thing, but I'm sure someone wrote them down somewhere." A mischievous glint appeared in her eye. "You could probably look them up in the old library."

Belle raised her eyebrows. "I thought that was closed."

"Only because there's nobody to take care of it," Granny said innocently. "Shame, really. Mayor Blanchard made it clear that there's still room in the budget to keep it open; it's just a matter of finding the right person to do it."

"Granny." Belle narrowed her eyes at the older woman. "Are you trying to trick me into staying here?"

"I'd hardly call it tricking," Granny replied. "But of course I am. And look at you—barely here three days, and you already look better than you did when you arrived. And Ruby hasn't stopped grinning since you came here, either." She smiled and gave Belle an affectionate pat on the arm. "This is your home, girl. I'm just trying to make it easier for you to see."

Of course, Granny didn't know that neither Belle's nor Ruby's improved mood had much to do with her being here, but Belle decided not to disabuse her of the notion. It was... nice to feel welcome. And while the thought of staying in Storybrooke still wound Belle's stomach in nervous knots, it wasn't quite as unthinkable as it had been even a week ago. It was a worrisome development, but one she decided to inspect more closely another time. "All right," she said aloud, "assuming one would like to take a look at the library—how would I go about that?"

"Well, like I said, Mayor Blanchard is probably just waiting for someone to show interest in the old place. I think if you tell him that you're going to take inventory of the books and maybe clean the place up a little, I think he'd give you the key on the spot."

Which really did sound like something Belle would like to spend her time on, even if it meant making slower progress on the house. _At least there's a salary in it,_ she told herself. After all, her savings wouldn't last forever. "That sounds reasonable," she said aloud, and downed the last remains of her tea. "I think I'll do just that."

She tried to ignore Granny's smug expression while she left the diner.

* * *

 

She'd spent a lot of that time with research and, yes, cleaning up the old library, a job she enjoyed far more than she felt comfortable admitting to herself. Her research into all things fae in general and the old mansion in the woods in particular had been somewhat disappointing.

The mansion was apparently something of a local legend, though one mostly forgotten over the last generation or so. People claimed to have seen it and there were several conflicting accounts about what it had looked like, but none of the stories from people who claimed to have gone inside matched what Belle had seen, and she was ready to dismiss most of them as just that: Stories.

As for the fae themselves—or the faeries, or the Fair Folk, or whatever other name people liked to call them—there was almost too much information, and almost all of it contradictory. They were unable to lie. Or unable to tell the truth. They couldn't set foot into churches or maybe they sought out churches. They would steal away children because they couldn't have any, or they would swap out human children with their own. Belle hadn't even found any good explanations for that last one. The worst thing was that for all she knew, all of these old stories could be true or none of them. She just didn't know enough about what she was looking for, and since Rumplestiltskin had told her not to find him, she had no way of narrowing down her questions. The one thing she had gotten after several hours of increasingly frustrated searching was the one thing all of these stories had in common: the fae disliked the touch of iron.

 _And "rountree"_ Belle remembered. A quick search on Google had informed her that it was an old word for rowan, or mountain ash, and she had stocked up on leaves from the tree. Getting faestruck once was more than enough for her to take any steps necessary to avoid a lengthy repeat performance.

 Google had _also_ informed her that the last time the word "rountree" had been in common usage had been sometime in the sixteenth century. In Scotland. Belle tried very hard not to think about the implications of that, but decided that she could probably count herself lucky all the fae she'd spoken to so far knew modern English.

There had also been no word about the Trials, except for the usual fairy tales, none of which dealt with anything Belle could tie to the "Dreaming Place" Rumplestiltskin kept talking about.

 _That's for later_ , Belle told herself. Right now, she was spending time with her friends. Or, more accurately, with the people her friends had grown into. She thought she quite liked most of them, though hearing about their lives in snippets of conversation with no context still felt strange. All of her friends had had entire lives while Belle had been away, and felt as if was mostly still the same.

The club itself was louder than Belle had expected. At some point in the last seven years, the owner had added an area that might generously be called a dance floor, if you'd never seen an actual dance floor in your life, and if you didn't mind avoiding a billiard table while you did your dancing. This also meant that the music was cranked up to a nearly-unpleasant degree, and Belle regretted not taking earplugs with her. Yes, they would cut down on conversations, but as it was, they could barely hear each other anyway.

"...and I thought I should take up teaching again before she gets into preschool," Mary-Margaret finished out her story. She and David had gotten married almost immediately out of High School and had a child shortly afterwards. Little Emma—now completely recovered from her brush with the flu two weeks ago—was almost five, and after a moment of self-consciousness, Belle had asked if she could come over and meet her soon. Her stay would probably stretch only for a couple more weeks, depending on how long these "Trials" took, but she didn't want to leave without seeing her friend's child.

"Sounds like you're doing great," she said with a smile at Mary-Margaret.

"Thanks!" Mary-Margaret all but beamed. "How have things been for you?"

Belle hesitated. She didn't want to unload all of her recent troubles, so she told an extremely abbreviated version, leaving out most of the details of her troubles with Gaston and her father's depression. That still didn't leave much of a happy story, but at least it was a short one, ending with her inheriting the house and coming here to deal with it.

Mary-Margaret winced. "Sorry, I didn't think—"

"It's fine," Belle assured her. "And I think being here has helped me." Which was true in a sense, and maybe not only because of her newly found goal to get her mother back.

"Glad to hear it." Mary-Margaret glanced at the bar. "I'm getting drinks. Do you want something?"

Since Belle had her later activities to consider, she declined and watched Mary-Margaret as she worked her way through the crowd until Ruby all but threw herself down on the chair next to Belle. "Everything all right?" she asked, all but shouting to be heard over the music.

"Yes, just thinking," Belle called back.

"Sorry I didn't bring more of a party mood."

"You're doing fine," Ruby reassured her. "It's been a while since any of us have done this sort of thing. It takes getting used to."

"Well, Ashley seems to have gotten the hang of it quickly," Belle commented. They both looked over at the young woman who was doing her best to tear up the far-too-small dance floor.

"I think it's the first time she's been out since she had Alexandra," Ruby said. "Cut her some slack."

Alexandra. Belle hadn't heard the name before, but she quickly made some connections. Apparently, there was more than one baby to visit in the next couple of days.

Ruby seemed to catch her mood, and nudged her arm. "Hey. No brooding." A grin spread across her face. "How about we keep Ash some company?"

Belle was about to decline—her stomach was little more than a nervous clump in her midscetion by now, and she didn't want to risk upsetting it by moving too much—but the memory of a glittering ballroom and hypnotic music flashed through her mind. She had to suppress a shudder, but the image also kindled a flame of resentful stubbornness in her. It was one thing not to dance, because she didn't feel like it, but she refused to sit here because she was _afraid_. "Sure," she said, maybe a little louder than she needed to, "why not."

She really was out of practice, but Belle lost herself in the music quickly enough, and just for a few precious moments, she could forget about the house, the trials, her mother, and about the small, flat gravestone in Boston where she'd buried her father.

The short high faded halfway through the second song, and Belle drifted towards the edge of the far-too-tiny dance floor, frowning at Ruby when she followed her. "You were having fun," Belle protested. "Why are you stopping?"

Ruby didn't answer, but her eyes flickered to the side, and when Belle looked in that direction, she saw Mulan standing near the bar, nursing a drink and looking around thoughtfully. Apparently, the date wasn't going quite as well as Ruby had hoped.

"Maybe you should ask _her_ to dance," Belle suggested gently.

"Easier said than done." Ruby shook her head. "I could have sworn she likes me, you know. But since we've got here, she's barely been talking. Just sat there all evening, staring at pretty much anyone as long as they're not me." The last words were probably not meant to sound resentful, but Belle could still hear an edge in them.

"So what you're saying," Belle said slowly, "is that she's acting as if she's nervous?"

"She wasn't nervous when I asked her out!" Ruby protested.

"Yes, but assuming that she _is_ nervous, wouldn't you make it easier on both of you if you asked her to dance?" Belle asked, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice. For someone who projected such iron-clad confidence as Ruby, she could sometimes be surprisingly insecure.

Ruby glared at her, but there was no real heart in it. "I hate when you're being reasonable," she said. "Will you be OK on your own?"

Belle glanced at her phone, which showed her that she had about twenty minutes left to midnight. "Just fine," she said. "Actually, I have to leave soon." She smiled at her friend encouragingly. "Have fun!"

"Let's hope," Ruby said, and got up. Belle couldn't hear what she said to Mulan, of course, but whatever it was, the other woman's face lit up and she downed the remains of her drink before following Ruby out on the dance floor. Belle watched them for a moment longer, before getting up. Fifteen minutes to midnight. She would be fine. It wasn't like Rumplestiltskin would turn into a pumpkin when the clock struck. She hoped.


	5. Chapter 5

The moon had already passed its zenith and the town hall clock was striking midnight when Belle reached the edge of the woods, where a very impatient Rumplestiltskin was waiting for her. He was dressed in what she'd come to think of as "Mr Gold's clothes" again; a sharp suit that looked entirely inappropriate for walking through the forest at night. Especially combined with the thin briefcase leaning against his leg. Though considering that Belle herself was still in her party getup, she didn't feel in a position to judge.

"Good to see you have your priorities straight," he said when she got close enough to hear, clearly referring to her appearance.

"I hadn't planned on staying that— No, you know what? It's none of your business." Oddly enough, his antagonistic attitude was almost a relief. The strangely familiar tone of their last conversation had unsettled Belle, and at least with barbed remarks, you knew where you stood. Still, she resisted the urge to cross her arms against the night chill. The late August days were still warm enough, but the coming fall made itself known in the cool nights and Belle's thin coat was definitely not meant to protect against anything more than a slight breeze.

"At least we can agree on that," Rumplestiltskin said. "Follow me, we don't have much time to prepare."

She did, surprised when he pulled out a small flashlight to shine on the path in front of them. "Do you even need that?" she burst out before she could stop herself.

Rumplestiltskin glanced at her, lips pursed. "It's dark," he said simply.

"Yes, but last time..." Belle hesitated. Admitting that she'd basically stalked him into the woods, even though he had caught her at it and so already knew, made her deeply uncomfortable. "Well, I just assumed you could see in the dark."

That got her another long pause while they picked their winding way through the forest. "I can," he said finally. "But I had assumed that you cannot, and also that you might forget to bring your own."

Which was surprisingly considerate, though Belle certainly wouldn't tell him so. And she _did_ have her phone with her, thank you very much. It had no battery life to speak of and probably wouldn't have lasted them even halfway into the woods, but she had brought it, at least.

"This is what you have to look for," he said, shining the torch in an arc on the ground. It illuminated a large piece of forest floor, including…

"Seriously?" Belle asked. "A fairy ring?"

"The name is not at all undeserved," Rumplestiltskin commented. "There is more to it, but on the nights of your Trials, it's all you will need to cross between worlds."

He stepped into the ring. Belle half expected him to disappear from view, but he only straightened his posture and took his cane in the same hand as the briefcase. After a moment's hesitation, she followed him. There was a brief flash of vertigo, but nothing else that marked to Belle that she had just crossed into another realm. It was… eerie, to say the least.

"Are you going to tell me what these "Trials" are supposed to be, now?"

"No."

When he didn't elaborate, Belle asked, "Then what exactly are you doing here?" She tried not to sound too annoyed, but with limited success.

"Making sure you get there, for one," he said, still not looking at her. "These woods—at least this part of them—belong to the Black Fairy. It would be easy for her to let a mortal get lost in them, never to be seen again."

Belle had a sudden flash of wandering around among the dark trees for day after day, never seeing sunlight or another person until her body finally gave out. She shivered and sped up a little, though Rumplestiltskin still walked with his cane and was in no danger of leaving her behind. "Why would she do that?" she asked. "She's the one who agreed to let me go through these trials."

"Because she doesn't want you to succeed," Rumplestiltskin snapped. "We cornered her into letting you attempt the Trials, but they give all mortals a fair chance to pass them, and the Black Fairy only ever plays fair if she cannot help it." He must have seen her expression, because he added, a little incredulous, "This can't be news to you."

"It is," Belle said. "But it's not a surprise." The Black Fairy had hardly agreed graciously to her claim. But to think that someone would give her a chance at saving her mother, only to set her up to fail like this filled Belle with a boiling anger that made her grit her teeth until her jaws ached. Even if she hadn't already had excellent motivation to pass these trials, now she was ready to do it out of sheer spite. In front of her, Rumplestiltskin stopped abruptly.

"We're here," he said.

They had reached a clearing. Silvery moonlight, far brighter than anything Belle had ever seen in her life, shone down on it, bathing everything in a cool but gentle glow. Smack in the middle of the clearing stood a broad stump of a tree, much wider than Belle could have wrapped with both her arms. Wider than three of her could have wrapped with their arms, really. It was cut at about knee height, and Belle looked it over for a moment.

"It's the oldest tree in Faerie," Rumplestiltskin explained to her. "It used to connect the worlds."

"What happened?" Belle asked, reaching out and touching it gently. The wood felt smooth, almost like a fresh shoot, even though it was clearly centuries old.

"Someone cut it down." The finality in his tone made it clear that she wouldn't get more of an answer. Instead, he stooped down and pulled a couple of things out of his briefcase, most incongruous among them a clay bowl about the size of Belle's head. Into it, he poured the contents of several small bottles and moved his hands over them in small circles until they started moving by themselves.

Belle stared at it, fascinated, as the thick liquid swirled around and began to glow with a faint reddish-golden light. "What exactly are you doing?" she asked.

"Preparations." Rumplestiltskin motioned for her to come closer without looking up from his work. "Your hand," he said, holding out his own.

Belle frowned at it. "Why?" she asked.

"I thought we'd been over this," he said. "Are you going to do as I ask or should we just end this right now?"

"No need to be like that," Belle grumbled and put her hand in his.

Without a word, he turned it around, palm up, and drew something from his pocket with his free hand. "Don't worry, it's clean," he said, before pressing the thing in his hand into the pad of her fourth finger.

A stabbing pain shot through Belle's hand and she hissed, pulling her hand back. Rumplestiltskin let it go and held up something that looked suspiciously like a blood lancet. One look at her hand confirmed that yes, it _was_ in fact a blood lancet. A thick red drop was already forming at the tip of her finger and Belle glared at Rumplestiltskin. "What was that for?"

He sighed and held out his hand again. "We need it to make your candle," he said. "If you would be so kind."

Reluctantly, Belle held out her hand again, and he squeezed several drops of her blood into the bowl, stirring it together with the substances already in it.

"You could have just asked," she said after a moment.

"Most people tend to get squeamish about this sort of thing."

"And you thought just stabbing me would be better?"

"Quicker, certainly." He shot her a glare. "Please remember that you were the one who was late."

Belle gritted her teeth and forced herself to count to ten before she spoke. "Next time," she said, "I don't care if we are literally three minutes from the end of the world. You _ask_ me, got that?"

He looked up from his work and eyed her thoughtfully, then he nodded. "Understood." That said, he went back to stirring. Belle watched his hands with quiet fascination. The glow from the bowl gleamed on the tiny scales that covered his fingers, giving his motions an almost hypnotic quality.

So lost was she in her observation that she nearly didn't notice when he finished his work with a flourish, and held out a candle to her. It looked... odd. Swirls of colours—none of them red, Belle noticed—streaked it and it was almost too thick to hold between her two hands, but short, almost stubby.

"And that is...?"

"Your candle," Rumplestiltskin said, as if that explained anything. "It marks the time you have to reach the Dreaming Place." A smirk crossed his face, as if he were laughing at some private joke. "You can _only_ get there by candlelight."

Belle looked at the candle again. "So… am I going to do them all tonight?"

"That would probably kill you," Rumplestiltskin said, very matter-of-fact. "No, you will—hopefully—complete your first Trial tonight, and the next two over the course of… well, however long it takes you to recover from this one. The only important thing to remember is that you can only attempt them on the full and new moon."

Belle frowned, but before she could ask, Rumplestiltskin said, "The doors won't let mortals pass on any other night."

"Lovely," Belle said. "So I'm stuck here for at least another month?"

"At least." He didn't seem to concerned about the idea and Belle decided that it wasn't worth arguing with him.

"And what about the candle? That's never going to burn that long."

Rumplestiltskin shot her an irritated glance while he packed away his tools. "You can put it out between trials, of course," he said.

 _Sorry, mom_ , she thought quietly. _I'll get there as fast as I can._

Rumplestiltskin stowed away his packed-up tools and went over to the edge of the clearing where the moonlight barely reached. Belle followed him cautiously, until she saw a tall structure that she'd thought part of the woods before; it was an arch, made entirely of twisting and winding tree branches. She couldn't see any tree trunk it might be attached to, but the thing was very clearly alive, since it carried numerous leaves.

"What," she asked slowly, "is that?"

"The Arch," Rumplestiltskin answered simply. "It's the door to the Dreaming Place. Sometimes. For you, it's where the doors to your Trials will open until you have completed them." He ran his hand over the Arch. "I will help you call the door, but you have to light your candle."

Belle looked at him expectantly until he asked, "What?"

"I don't smoke," she said.

"Meaning what?"

"How do you expect me to light the candle?" she asked. "I don't carry a lighter. You didn't tell me I would have to light anything."

He sighed and snapped his fingers. A spark jumped to her candle, kindling a small but bright flame and burning a small hole in the wax surface. Belle blinked, her heartbeat speeding up a little. Watching him make magical candles was one thing, but this... this was _magic_. "Uh..." she stammered. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He ran his hand over the Arch and muttered something under his breath while Belle studied her candle. It seemed to burn somewhat faster than she would have expected from a wax candle, but it would last hours, of that she was certain.

"So how does this work?" she asked. "Can you help me during the trial, or is it magical candles and opening doors only?"

"I can help you as much as I like," he said. "Or you, for that matter. As long as I don't use magic to do it, of course. This _is_ a trial for mortals, after all."

"I really don't like it when you call me that," Belle mumbled.

"But you are," Rumplestiltskin said. "Mortal, I mean. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"That's not what it sounds like when you people say it," Belle countered. "Is that why I'm allowed to have help? Because mortals just can't take the stress otherwise?"

"Nonsense." Rumplestiltskin took a step back from the Arch, dusting off his hands in what seemed like an unconscious gesture. "Faerie just doesn't believe that one has to be isolated to be a hero. Finding people who are willing to face danger at your side is just as much the mark of a true hero as facing it alone."

That… actually sounded reasonable, at least as far as Belle was concerned. She tried on a smile. "Glad you're willing to face danger at my side, then." Even if it was mostly for his own benefit.

"The Trial will still test _you_ , first and foremost," Rumplestiltskin told her brusquely. "I'm just there to hurry things along."

At that moment, a door appeared inside the Arch. It was made out of a dark wood Belle didn't immediately recognise in the candle's faint light, and embossed with large, golden letters at its very top.

"So," she said. "Any idea what's behind it?"

"Not in the slightest," Rumplestiltskin said. "But you can read for yourself." He pointed up and Belle held up her candle so she could read the letters.

They formed two words: _Be Quick_

"Not exactly helpful," Belle commented.

"Whenever you are ready," Rumplestiltskin said. "Remember, that candle has to last you through all three Trials."

"If you think you can do it better…" Belle shook her head. "Nevermind. Let's get this over with." She raised her hand to push open the door, but it swung away from her before she could even touch it. Behind it lay not the edge of the clearing, but simply absolute darkness. Belle felt her heart speed up, but she didn't say another word as she stepped forward, her candle lighting the way into the dark.

* * *

 

It took a moment for Belle's eyes to adjust. It didn't help much when they did—most of the space around her still lay in complete darkness and she had the unpleasant thought that the reason might not be the lack of light and more the lack of anything to see. Still, in front of her was a... well, a wall. It stood at least three times as high as the Arch had been, and it was made entirely from thick, sturdy brambles. Even in the meagre light of her candle, Belle could see the thorns on the branches, and each of them was at least as long as her hand was wide. She gulped. "That... certainly looks inviting."

Next to her, Rumplestiltskin was still silent, until he pointed at something to her left. "I think we're meant to go that way."

Belle followed his gesture with her eyes, and sure enough, there was a gap in the wall, just wide enough for a single person to step through and not cut themselves to bloody ribbons on the thorns.

"That looks like a trap," Belle said flatly.

"It might be," Rumplestiltskin said. "But if so, I suspect it is one we are supposed to outrun." His tone turned even drier than usual. "I suppose it's just as well I don't need my cane while in Faerie."

Belle pulled a face at that but nodded and went ahead to the gap in the wall. There was no question of who of them would go first—Belle's candle was the only source of light in the unnatural darkness that surrounded them. She didn't exactly like walking in front, but at least with her there, she wasn't the one who was walking in the half-dark of her own shadow.

The thorns cast long shadows that flickered and danced in the light of her candle when she stepped into the gap between the hedges, and she quickly saw that the walls were only the exterior to a number more; all of them just as high, all of them just as prickly.

Belle looked at the path in front of her for a while, trying to peer into the darkness, until Rumplestiltskin nudged her in the back. "Be quick," he reminded her, and his voice sounded much more strained than she was used to. Was he afraid? But even if he was, he had still chosen to walk into this darkness with her, and that was really the only thing that mattered.

She started moving, one step after the other, clutching her candle tightly enough that her palms started to go numb. Nothing happened. Only that when Belle turned around, where the entrance had been, the wall had closed. She hadn't heard it happen, and oddly enough, she wasn't surprised to see it. Deeply worried and more than a little panicky, yes, but not surprised.

"Looks like the only way forward is through," she said. "Do you think the walls are going to grow shut around us or something?"

Rumplestiltskin eyed the wall's long thorns and pulled a face. "You have a ghoulish imagination. Let's just hurry."

And they did. Belle never quite broke into a proper jog, but they were walking about as fast as she could manage without worrying too much about missing something in the all-encompassing darkness.

Belle waited for the trying part of the Trial to happen, as it were, but it didn't seem to be forthcoming. They just walked along the narrow path between the hedges, and whenever Belle looked back, she could only see the tall hedges for about two feet behind her and then nothing beyond the small circle of light her candle provided. It was as if nothing outside of that small zone of relative safety even existed.

"I really don't like it here," she muttered. Though at least it wasn't raining.

Behind her, Rumplestiltskin made a sound of agreement but didn't speak. Belle could understand him. It felt strange, hearing yourself talk here. As if their surroundings swallowed any sound along with the light.

And then they came to the first crossing.

"Oh," Belle said, staring first at the paths to her right and then to her left in dismay. "I think I know what this is, now."

"A maze," Rumplestiltskin supplied, a little unnecessarily, as she thought. "Maybe that is why you have to be quick. Get out before the candle burns out."

Belle looked down at her candle. The flame had already made a substantial dent in the wax, but there was still plenty of it left. "Which way, then?" she asked.

"It's your Trial." He almost made it sound like a mantra.

Belle rolled her eyes and pointed to the left with her free hand. "That way, then," she said and began walking. After a moment she said, "And we should probably pick up the pace."

So they ran. Belle couldn't say for how long. After the second turn, Rumplestiltskin suggested that she begin marking the passages they'd taken by singing away some of the hedge to make sure they didn't take the same turn twice, and she began doing just that.

They never got to the same turn twice. It seemed like the maze was endless, leading them through twist after turn, after twist, and never reaching anywhere. Belle's lungs were burning, but she didn't dare slow down. Her candle was burning lower by the minute and they were making absolutely no progress.

It didn't help. After they turned around a corner to find themselves at yet another four-point crossing, Belle stopped. "Wait." She held up her hand and, to his credit, Rumplestiltskin stopped immediately, though when she turned to face him, he was glaring at her impatiently.

"We do _not_ have the time to stand around." The annoyance in his tone was somewhat tempered by his heavy breathing, which Belle could only just hear over her own. Apparently, even immortal fae got winded by too much cardio.

"What did it say on the door?" she asked once both their breathing had calmed down a little.

"You saw it as well as I—"

"Humour me." Belle forced herself to stay calm and not look too closely at her candle. It had already burned down over the one-third marker.

Rumplestiltskin sighed, but dutifully said, "It said "Be Quick". Which is exactly what we're not doing right now."

"All right, but why quick?" Belle asked. "It's not like the walls are closing in on us or like something is chasing us through this place; it's just a maze. Why would we need to run?"

Rumplestiltskin frowned at her, and she could see the first glimmer of understanding in his eyes.

"And think about it," Belle continued, "what if you wanted to find your loved one in the Dreaming Place, but couldn't walk very fast, nevermind run. You said it yourself; these Trials are meant to be _fair_." For a given value of fair, at least.

Would that just be it? You said it yourself, Faerie is always fair, even if the fae aren't. So this place doesn't want us to _walk_ fast," she reached up and carefully touched the edge of one hedge, "it wants us to _think_. A quick mind, not quick feet."

"And you are certain enough of that to stake our lives on it?" Rumplestiltskin asked. The edge in his voice now hat the clear tones of fear, but Belle made herself ignore them. They would get out of here together. She would make sure of that.

"You said this is my Trial," she said simply. "Trust me."

He was silent for a long moment, before he nodded. "All right," he said slowly. "What is your plan?"

"Well, I didn't pay that much attention in mathematics, but I know there's really only one reliable way to get out of a maze," Belle said. "And I don't think we have the time for it." She brushed her fingers along the thick brambles of the hedge and shook her head. "So there must have been a clue somewhere. Something that if we think about it enough, will show us the way out of here."

"There wasn't anything," Rumplestiltskin said grimly. "Just the maze. And your candle is burning down."

Belle shushed him, almost absentmindedly, and kept running her fingers up and down the maze wall as she walked forward and backwards at the crossing. She was certain that she was right. She had to be, or what was even the point of this entire trial? The idea came to her that it might just be a false hope, one elaborate trick that the faeries had played on her—her books had certainly implied that they wouldn't be above these things—but Rumplestiltskin had seemed far too earnest for that to be the case. And he was in here with her. She had to remember that.

Finally, her fingers hit something. An irregularity in the wall, exactly at the height where her fingers naturally reached if she loosely held out her arm. "There's something here," she said and tried to grab it.

Long thorns burrowed into her skin and Belle pulled back her hand with a yelp. They hadn't gone deep, but she was bleeding in at least three separate places. She grimaced and tried very hard not to swear. It seemed like the wrong time for that. "Right, maybe that wasn't it," she managed to say instead and looked up at Rumplestiltskin, only to see him stare at her with a rapidly growing grin on his face.

"No, I think that was exactly it, he said. "Could you bleed on it again?"

Belle was about to lay into him but decided to look behind her first. Nothing obvious had changed. "Tell me why, first," she demanded.

"Just do it," he said. "And watch the paths while you do it."

With a grimace, Belle did as she asked. This time she made sure not to cut herself again, instead just putting pressure on one of the wounds until she could feel the blood dripping down. She still couldn't see anything. "If this is some kind of joke..." she began, turning her head to look at Rumplestiltskin, but paused when she saw something from the corner of her eye.

Carefully, she moved the candle with the hand not currently stuck between a dozen murder thorns and there it was again: only the shadows in one of the three passages moved with her light. "How…" Belle began, but Rumplestiltskin interrupted her.

"It's your blood." He sounded excited. "The blood on the hedge resonates with that in your candle and shows us the right way!" He pointed at the path with the shifting shadows.

"What I'm hearing," Belle said slowly, as she pulled her hand out of the hedge, "is that I'm going to have to bleed on this hedge at every crossing we're going to pass."

"Would you prefer some more directionless running, first?" Rumplestiltskin snapped. "We don't have much time—you're already far past the mark on your candle, and we _will_ need it for the other Trials."

Belle grimaced and looked down at her already-punctured hand. "Right." She squared her shoulders and walked towards the path where the shadows had shifted as quickly as she could.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly they passed through the maze after that, although the hint at which passage was the right one didn't always stay the same. Once, the one they had to take grew about half a foot more narrow, and they had to squeeze through it sideways, while in another, the floor suddenly dropped into a sharp descent. They were more obvious signs, but also more disquieting ones, and Belle almost wept with relief when they reached a narrow gap in one of the walls behind which the maze ended. She all but ran out once she noticed, stumbling over her own feet, until she realised that she had left Rumplestiltskin behind. She turned around, but couldn't see him or the maze anywhere. "…Rumplestiltskin?" she called. "Are you still—"

"Right behind you."

She shrieked and nearly dropped her candle as she jumped away from the voice at her ear. He _had_ been right behind her, and looked entirely too pleased with himself, though the expression dropped when he noticed her very real fear.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think." He nodded to the side. "Are you going to light the beacon?"

Belle frowned. "What beacon?" Then she saw it. The only other thing visible in the gloom, though only barely. It lay outside her little ring of light, and so she hadn't even looked for it, but the flickering of her candle glanced off it's metal surface some distance out in the darkness. As Belle stepped closer, she saw that it really was what Rumplestiltskin had said—a beacon. Wood and tinder piled in a metal basket propped up on three legs. Belle looked it over for a moment before holding her candle to its base.

A moment later, the flame shot up, illuminating a door that Belle _knew_ hadn't been there a moment before. Still, she was in no mood to complain about the impossibility of magical doors, as long as they led her home.

Again, the door swung open before she could touch it, and they both stumbled out into the same clearing where they had entered. "Now that," Belle said, "just feels unfair."

"Like I told you; this is where you get to the Dreaming Place," Rumplestiltskin said. "It's also the only way out of there." Belle guessed that he tried to sound aloof, but he was clearly as glad to be out of the oppressive, unnatural darkness as she was.

Belle turned around to watch the door, which still stood open, then blew out her candle. Immediately, the door vanished, leaving the Arch empty once more. "So," she said. "If I don't have any candle left by the end of the Trial to light the beacon…"

"You won't be leaving again," Rumplestiltskin finished the sentence for her. "I don't know what would become of you, because nobody has ever found a mortal who suffered that fate."

"Right." Belle tried not to imagine being lost in the place they'd just left, with no company and no candle to light at least some of the space around her. The thought alone made it hard for her to breathe, but she was distracted from it when Rumplestiltskin took her left hand in his, touching the numerous cuts and holes and making her wince. Instinctively, she drew it back. "That one has been poked enough for one night," she said decisively. "Take the other one if you absolutely have to stab me again."

"I was _going_ to heal it," he said, sounding deeply offended at her accusation. "I told you that I'd ask before I "stab you again", as you put it."

Belle stared. "You... can do that?" she asked.

"With something this small, always," he said, sounding rather smug. "Healing is not my forte, but I'd like to think that I can take care of a few pinholes."

"Next time," Belle told him, holding out her hand again, " _you_ can jab your hand open on the murder thorns, and I get to stand in the back and make clever comments about pinholes, All right?"

"It was _your_ Trial." Amusement glimmered in his eyes, but Belle was willing to forgive him, as long as he healed her hand. He took it in his again, furrowing his brow. Belle could have sworn that she heard him hum a tune, but maybe that was just from the feeling in her hand, which suddenly thrummed with a strange sensation, almost as if she were standing in a concert hall with an incredibly strong bass. It only lasted a moment; a rusty red shimmer laid over her skin and then the stinging of her fresh wounds disappeared, along with the angry red marks until only a few faint blood smears remained as the only reminder that she had been injured in the first place.

She stared at her freshly-healed hand with fascination, and only noticed that Rumplestiltskin was still holding it when he abruptly stepped back, coughing as if embarrassed. The sound drove the blood into Belle's cheeks and she took some comfort in the fact that it would be hard to see in the moonlight, until she remembered that he could, apparently, see just fine in the dark.

"Well," she managed after a moment. "thank you. Really. I did not look forward to disinfecting those, especially since I forgot my Thermos at home."

Rumplestiltskin looked genuinely confused at that. "And why would that be a problem?"

"Because," Belle said, trying not to sound too chagrined, "that's where I kept the mountain ash tea I made this evening, so I could drink it once I get out of here."

They were both silent for a moment. "I don't know if I should be impressed that you thought to make some of your own at all, or exasperated that you forgot it."

"Impressed," Belle said immediately. "It's all right; I think I can make it from the forest to my house without keeling over." At least this time she knew what was coming.

The look Rumplestiltskin shot her was very nearly insulted. "Nonsense," he said. "I'm getting you home. Just let me find my briefcase."

Belle was surprised, but not unpleasantly so. She hadn't exactly looked forward to staggering her way home, as it were. This newfound worry he had for her was probably mostly because she had now well and truly started her Trials and become more valuable to him, but she still enjoyed the company as they made their way out of Faerie.

* * *

The briefcase didn't turn up again. Rumplestiltskin suspected a band of roving pixies that sometimes plagued the outer reaches of Faerie, but he didn't have the time or patience to look for them. Nothing in that case had been intrinsically valuable in any case and as far as he was concerned, they were welcome to it.

Belle did not, in the end, "keel over" on the stretch between Faerie and her home, though she did lean on him heavily enough that Rumplestiltskin expended some of his magic to improve his balance and keep him from leaning on his injured leg. He accompanied her all the way to her kitchen and made sure that he saw her drink the first few gulps of the vile substance before he made his excuses and left.

He tried to ignore the pang of regret when he closed her door behind him and stood there for a moment, trying to decide what to do next. He should probably have returned to his shop, but their success—well, mostly Belle's success, he had to admit—at the first trial had left him wound up and unwilling to hold still. Rumplestiltskin had just decided to take a walk along the edge of the town, when he sensed the presence of another fae and froze. They were powerful; in the mortal world, usually silent except for the faint background chime of his own magic, their presence was almost like the ringing of an enormous church bell. Almost instinctively, Rumplestiltskin reached for his magic, not caring who knew about it. If this newcomer was looking for a fight, he would give them one.

As soon as the rhythm of the spell started pounding in his head, he heard a clear, unpleasantly familiar laugh and let go of his spell. Not because he felt any safer, but because he knew that was not the direction this threat would be coming from.

"Your Majesty," he said aloud. "I am surprised to see you out here."

The Black Fairy stepped out of the shadows between two trees near the house, a gracious smile on her face that Rumplestiltskin knew to be completely false. He squinted a little, but he couldn't tell if she had been there the whole time or if she had just appeared when he had spoken to her.

"And a good evening to you, too, Dark One," she said.

Rumplestiltskin forced himself to relax, to not let her see how much her very presence bothered him. Despite his best efforts, his shoulders wouldn't relax. "What do you want?" he asked wearily.

The Black Fairy put a hand to her chest in mock dismay. "Do I need a reason to visit the mortal world?" she asked.

"Usually, yes, or I wouldn't have stayed here for the past seven years," Rumplestiltskin said. On another day, he might have at least try to play the game to avoid offending her, but today he was just exhausted. More than that, he didn't like seeing her so close to Belle's home; a feeling he couldn't quite explain to himself, but the further the two were apart from each other, the better.

"You wound me." She shook her head, but carried on. "I only came to tell you something of importance. Something that could just not be trusted to a messenger." A slow smile spread over her face. "Something concerning your... protégé's mother. Congratulations on her passing her first trial, by the way."

"I didn't think you knew anything about her," Rumplestiltskin said, unwilling to respond to the backhanded praise. "I seem to remember that you rarely go hunting yourself these days."

"Ah, but I still have an eye on all things happening in my kingdom; especially things concerning the Dreaming Place. It is, after all, my solemn duty to protect and nurture it." Her concerned tone was even more fake than her smile.

Rumplestiltskin forced himself to stillness. "Well, she's asleep right now, as I'm sure you knew before you came here," he said. "What did you want to tell her?"

"I thought I should let her know," she said. "I assume you haven't told her much about the Dreaming Place? How it feeds off mortal dreams to build the very foundations of our world? Or do you just not know as much about it as you think?"

"I'm sure you had a point?" Rumplestiltskin said through gritted teeth.

This time, the Black Fairy actually laughed. "Oh, Rumple," she said, "why do you think we try to catch children to be our Dreamers? Mortal adults are so set in their ways. They don't have that many dreams left, in the first place, and if you take them away..." She made a gesture as if flinging a speck of dust from her fingers. "They waste away. Aged ahead of their years, dead long before their time."

It took a moment for the meaning behind her words to sink in, but when they did, it felt like a punch to the gut. "No," Rumplestiltskin whispered. "She can't be dead." But why not? He had said it often enough himself—mortals did not fare well in Faerie. And why should it bother him? He didn't need the woman alive, after all.

 _Because if Belle finds out, she'll never go through with the trials, you idiot,_ he reminded himself. _They're only going to get worse from here; you think she'd do something like that to herself again, just to help a complete stranger?_

He pushed his panicked thoughts aside and focused on the Black Fairy once more, who was watching him with an almost eager expression. "That is not what I said, but I am afraid you are right; the mortal girl's mother died a long time ago."

"You're lying." Rumple said the words with a calm he didn't feel and focused all his senses on the Black Fairy.

"Why would I need to lie? The woman is dead. Withered and aged, and long gone by now. The girl is, of course, welcome to complete the Trials anyway, but I doubt she would see the need at this point." She smiled and her magic flowed around her, peaceful and undisturbed. If she was lying, then she was the best liar that Faerie had ever produced. Not entirely impossible, but extremely unlikely.

"Why did you want to tell her?"

"I didn't," the Black Fairy said. "I could, if you want me to. But like I said, this was information for _you_."

"And why," Rumplestiltskin asked through gritted teeth, "would that be?"

"To see what you would do, of course. It seems like an interesting dilemma to find yourself in." She winked at him. "I won't tell if you won't."

"You…" Rumplestiltskin stopped himself. Insulting her wouldn't help matters. In fact, it might just push her over the edge and into ruining everything for him. Right now, he was interesting enough that she would rather let him carry on with his plans than seriously try to stop him, but she was holding all the cards right now. He couldn't tell Belle, that much was clear. No matter how much it hurt her when she found out, he still needed her to get him to the Dreaming Place. "Thank you." He nearly choked on the words, but they seemed to satisfy the Black Fairy, who smiled broadly once more and inclined her head.

"You are welcome." And without even a goodbye, she melted back into the shadows.


	6. Chapter 6

Belle had expected the next day's headache, and had stocked up on aspirins. The Trial had certainly been less fun than a night out drinking, but it turned out that it had a similar fix and once she felt at least nominally human again, she headed out of the house. She could renovate tomorrow; today, she would do some work in the library. Maybe organise the children's section. She was fairly certain that her method was not exactly up to code, but Mary-Margaret had told her in private that her father was just glad _someone_ was looking after the place. As long as she did her hours and didn't set the place on fire, she was probably fine.

A surprise waited for her outside, because she barely got halfway down the street when she ran into a familiar figure. Rumplestiltskin was walking in her direction, eyes down and with the same reluctant walk she'd seen when she'd followed him into the woods.

"Rum— uh, Mr Gold," Belle managed after her initial surprise.

He looked up and grimaced in a way that could be seen as a smile. "Ms French," he said. "Good morning."

"Yes, good morning. Uhm… did you want something?" She didn't think anyone was watching them, never mind listening, but she still wasn't sure if she should talk in a way that implied the two of them knew each other beyond one rather embarrassing shouting match.

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you, actually." He looked around as if his thoughts were going along similar lines. "Might I invite you to breakfast with me?"

She hadn't expected to see Rumplestiltskin again so soon. In fact, she hadn't expected to see him at all before the next Trial. So far, he had seemed happy enough to avoid her as much as possible. Still, Belle couldn't deny that she still had a lot of questions and asking them over breakfast didn't seem like such a bad idea, so she nodded. "Why not? I just need to be at the library before ten or I won't get anything done in the house today." She hesitated for a moment. "Not in the diner, though." She did _not_ want to imagine her next conversation with Ruby when she turned up there to have breakfast with "Mr Gold". It wasn't that she was embarrassed—he was a rather attractive man, after all—but that would give a completely wrong impression when their relationship was really completely professional.

He nodded. "That won't be a problem. I know a place with excellent coffee." He fell into step beside her and they walked in slightly awkward silence for a little, before he asked, "What are you working on in the house?"

"Renovating," Belle replied. "It's been empty for seven years, and looks it. You can't really sell a house like..." She trailed off, realising how much her situation had changed. The plan had been to sell the house, but if— _when_ —she got her mother back, she would need a place to live. "And even if I don't have to sell," she said quickly, "it's not exactly a good place to live in right now."

"You seem to manage."

"Mostly, but I also had to pull a nest of weasels out of the wall three days ago."

It took a moment, but Belle heard an actual chuckle from Rumplestiltskin at that. She shot him a smile, which he didn't quite return, but the amusement still hung in the line of his mouth and the crinkling around his eyes.

They chatted more amicably from there and Rumplestiltskin seemed to relax somewhat. Belle thought that she could get used to this side of him—slightly less energetic, but also less high-strung and maybe more himself than the persona he put on when the scales covered his face.

She was still lost in those thoughts when they reached a small café—Belle doubted they had room for even as much as a dozen customers—and Gold asked her what kind of coffee she wanted.

"Tea, if they have any," she said with a sheepish smile. "I'm not much of a coffee drinker."

"Somehow, I am not surprised." He ordered for both of them while Belle sat down at one of the small tables and perused the single leaf that made up the menu. The breakfast selection was modest, but then, so was the entire menu. She went over to the counter to order pancakes for herself and when Rumple did the same, she shot him a look. "Have you ever actually eaten here?" she asked.

"Liquids only," he admitted with a completely blank face.

A short burst of laughter escaped Belle. "Sorry," she said. "I just never expect it when you joke."

"That is why they work." He still didn't smile, but Belle could make out the signs by now. Another advantage of his human face was that it made him at least somewhat more easy to read.

They sat down with their respective drinks—though she couldn't vouch for the coffee, Belle was rather impressed with the tea—and stayed like that for a while. Belle thought that Rumplestiltskin shouldn't have been so easy to be around, closed-off and abrasive as he was, but she found him surprisingly easy company. Someone who didn't expect her to be anyone or anything other than herself, even if their alliance was only a temporary thing of necessity, a fact she almost regretted at this point.

After a minute or two, Rumplestiltskin leaned forward, coffee still between his hands. "I… actually need to talk to you about something."

"All right." Belle refocused her attention on him. "What do you need?"

"I thought it might be… better to wait before the next Trial." He lowered his voice on the last word, even though the only other people in the café were the woman at the counter and a rather tired-looking young man right in front of the window. Neither looked as if they were even interested in their conversation.

Belle frowned. "I mean… yes, we'll have to wait until the new moon, won't we?" She had looked it up earlier and it was on a Sunday in September. Not ideal, but at least she wouldn't have to worry about another outing with her friends getting in the way.

"No, I meant longer than that."

"Absolutely not," Belle said immediately. "I can't just sit around and wait if I know I could be helping…" Now it was her turn to look around self-consciously and lower her voice. "My mother."

"I have been thinking about that, too." A look crossed Rumplestiltskin's face, almost as if he was in pain. "Have you ever wondered if she would… want you to do this?"

Belle suddenly felt very cold, but she kept her voice calm. "I'm not sure I know what you mean," she said.

"The Trials are dangerous," Rumplestiltskin said. "You've seen that yesterday. If you hadn't chanced on the solution to that maze—"

"You mean if I hadn't stopped to _think_ about it," Belle snapped back.

"Either way, you could have been lost in that place. Do you think your mother would want that for you?"

Belle narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you trying to talk me out of this?" She almost couldn't believe it, but it definitely sounded like it.

"All I am saying," he said slowly, "is that you should think about this again. The first Trial was the easiest and you nearly burned half of your candle already."

"As if you suddenly _care_ about me _,_ " Belle snarled. "I thought we had a deal. If nothing else, I thought I could at least rely on your self-interest in this, but apparently not."

"I just think a more careful approach—"

"I don't care!" Belle's ears were ringing with anger and she didn't bother to lower her voice. "Can't you understand that? There's nothing you can say to stop me from going through with this. My mother lost _seven years_ of her life already, because people like _you_ thought it was fine to just kidnap her off the street because they felt like it!" Only now did Belle remember that they were still very much in a public space, even if the people around them visibly did their best _not_ to listen in to their conversation.

"Belle, you know I don't—"

She took a deep breath. "You know what?" she whispered. "Forget it. You don't want to help me? Fine. Don't. But I'm going through with this, no matter what you do." She got up, decisively pushing her cup away. "Thank you for the breakfast, but I don't think we should do this again."

And before her nerve could desert her, she stalked out of the tiny café without looking back even once.

##

Belle had never expected the wait for the second Trial to feel so long, and at the same time so short. Any time she wasn't actively busy with something, her thoughts drifted to that lightless place and that she likely have to return to it. Minutes would stretch until they felt like hours, while at the same time, hours and days flew by without Belle even noticing.

Most of it, she thought, was the prospect of going back alone. True, Rumplestiltskin hadn't exactly helped her with any preparations for the Trial itself, but at least he'd been there. Not that she wanted him there after their disagreement, of course. But the thought of going back to that place all by herself was more than a little disconcerting.

At least she finally got some work on the house done. She still hadn't touched her parents' old room, but everywhere else looked nearly liveable again. Once or twice, Belle caught herself wondering what it would be like to just stay here. She already had the job at he library, and there really wasn't much in Boston that was worth returning to.

She always did her best to ignore these thoughts whenever they reared their head. Making any kind of plans without knowing if she was going to survive the next month--or if she would be getting her mother back until then--was quite pointless. If anything, these thoughts were a sign that she'd been here for too long.

It was one of these moods that drove her out of the hosue and into the library on a Saturday. Usually, she tried only to work there weekdays, but she couldn't stand the familiar walls and she needed to stay busy, and decided to loose herself among the stacks for a while.

She couldn't have been there for more than an hour or so when she heard the door to the library open and frowned. She always left the "Closed" sign hanging outside, since it would still be some time before the place would be useful to the public and she really wanted to spend her time explaining that to curious passers-by. For a moment, she entertained the thought that Rumplestiltskin might have come over to pay her a visit--maybe apologise for his behaviour and let her know that of course he would help her from now on, but she pushed that thought aside.

"We're closed!" she called out.

"We know!" Ruby's voice called back. "We just wanted to look in on you."

"And we brought food," another voice added. Belle didn't know it quite as well as Ruby's, but it wasn't hard to guess at the woman's identity.

"Into a library?" Belle asked as she stepped out between the bookshelves. "Are you sure you thought that through?"

Mulan and Ruby were standing in the doorway and had, indeed, brought food. A whole basket full of it, in fact.

"And you _did_ bring enough for the whole class," Belle commented, which got her a giggle out of Ruby and a confused look from Mulan.

"One of our teachers used that one when she caught Ruby eating cookies in class," Belle explained. "And the next day she brought enough for everyone."

Ruby's cooking might have left a lot to be desired, but she'd always been a good baker.

"She makes it sound like she didn't sneak over to our place to help me make them late into the night." Ruby pulled the cover from the basket to reveal a substantial--if late--lunch. "Now where can we spread this out?"

After some searching and mild protests from Belle that she would not have _anything_ greasy close to the books, they settled on dragging a few reading chairs and a table out into the front room and eating there. All throughout the meal, Belle noticed the fond smiles and subtle touches of hands between the other two women and quickly came to the conclusion that if they hadn't been quite dating on their night out, they definitely were doing so now.

Ruby's phone rang close to the end of their meal and she pulled an apologetic face. "Sorry, I think I actually have to take this," she said and got up, phone already in hand.

Before Belle could think of a half-hearted joke about modern telephones, Mulan had gotten up as well. Though rather than following Ruby as Belle had thought for one strange moment, she came over to Belle with an earnest expression. "You have to help me," she said.

Belle, feeling slightly alarmed, nodded. "Yes, of course. What is it?"

"I was trying to find a... present. For Ruby." She glanced over her shoulder as if the other woman might turn up at any second. "And I wanted to try the Pawnbroker's, but it's always closed. Do you know when he'll be back?"

Belle could hardly tell her that he was in hiding because he feared that a the henchmen of an angry fairy queen might find him otherwise, so she just shrugged. "I haven't been here much longer than you," she said. "Maybe he's just busy elsewhere."

"Yes, of course," Mulan nodded. "I'm sorry, I just got the impression that you knew him."

"I doubt anybody does," Belle muttered under her breath. Mulan looked at her curiously, but didn't press the issue. They tidied up the last remains of their meal just in time for Ruby to return.

"Aw, you shouldn't have."

"You spend all day tidying up after others," Mulan said sternly. "It's no hardship to do the same courtesy to you."

Belle grinned and gave the two the privacy of looking the other way while they kissed. Mulan might be a little more observant than Belle was completely comfortable with, but she seemed like a good person and a great girlfriend. So when she had to leave shortly after and they hugged their goodbyes, Belle whispered, "She likes those little glass figurines they sell next to the pharmacy." Mulan appeared confused at first, but understanding quickly dawned on her face and Belle gave her a conspiratorial wink before she left.

"See you later," Ruby called after her, and Mulan smiled a brilliant smile back at them as she walked out of the door..

"You two seem happy," Belle said once Mulan was clear out of earshot.

"We are. I think." Ruby stared after Mulan with a tender, almost wistful expression. "Is it selfish that I want her to stay?"

"That serious?" Belle asked, a little surprised.

"I'm not sure," Ruby admitted. "But the way she talks... she doesn't seem too keen on going back home. Wherever that may be."

"She doesn't say?"

"I've asked her twice," Ruby said, "and both times she said it's a small place I probably never heard of and changed the topic. So I guess she doesn't want to talk about it, either."

"I mean, if she likes it here..." Belle said, leaving the sentence to trail off.

"That's rich, coming from you," Ruby said, but without venom. "You couldn't wait to get out of here when we were little."

"Because I'd never seen anything outside of this town in my entire life," Belle protested. "I at least wanted to see a bit of the world before I decided that I want to spend the rest of my life in just one place." She shrugged. "Storybrooke is not so bad. It's not the place, really. It's the people."

Ruby gaped at her in mock surprise. "Did I just hear Belle French say something nice about the town of Storybrooke, Maine? Stop the presses!"

"I don't think they're even printing, yet," Belle shot back. "And I never hated the place. I just went stir-crazy."

"But you still don't want to stay." Ruby didn't sound accusatory. There was just a note of resignation in her voice that Belle didn't like thinking about.

"I honestly don't know anymore," she admitted. "Part of me wants to, but..." She shook her head. "I really don't know. I'll try and get the house done and we'll see from there." Nevermind that she could have had the house "done" almost a week ago--at least to the standards she'd set for herself before coming here. She could hardly tell Ruby that she had to wait another full turn of the moon so she could pass the Trials a bunch of fairies hat set before her before she could save her mother who, by the way, wasn't dead or disappeared but in an eternal sleep somewhere called the Dreaming Place.

Sometimes she wondered how her life had become so entirely strange in such a short time.

"Right." Clearly looking to dissolve the tension, Ruby rubbed her hands and fixed Belle with a worrying stare. "So. Let's hear it. What is going on with you and Mr Gold?"

Belle felt the blood rush into her cheeks, which was ridiculous, because even if what Ruby was implying could have been true—which it wasn't!—it certainly was no longer a concern. "Nothing," she said, maybe a little too quickly. "There's nothing going on."

"Really?" Ruby dragged the word out like a piece of gum. "Because Granny has been on my case all _week_ about why you thought that breakfast at the diner wasn't good enough and that it's not really her place to judge, but he does seem a bit old for you."

Belle hid her face in her hands. "This," she mumbled. "This is exactly what I wanted to avoid."

Ruby laughed and nudged her in the upper arm. "Don't worry; I think I've got her convinced that it was a business meeting about selling some of your parents' old stuff and that he probably picked the place." Belle looked up at her through her fingers to find Ruby still grinning. "Mind you, she's still angry at _him_ , but I think he can take it."

"It wasn't… it wasn't anything," Belle said, taking her hands away from her face again. "I mean. We had a fight. But there wasn't anything 'going on' before."

Ruby didn't reply, but Belle recognised her friend's "and who exactly are you trying to fool with that one" expression when she saw it.

"Seriously, there wasn't!"

"Doesn't sound like 'nothing' if you had a fight," Ruby replied. "Unless you… You didn't start about the thing with your mom again, did you? I get that you're upset, but I think he might sue if you keep it up."

Belle shook her head. "We've been over that. I know he didn't do it." Well. She was reasonably sure, at least. Very sure. About 98%. He'd said that direct lies were difficult for the fae, and he had told her in no uncertain terms that he'd never met or hurt her mother. Mostly, she didn't _want_ to believe that he'd done it.

"So you two _do_ talk." Ruby looked absurdly smug at her deduction.

"We _did_ ," Belle said pointedly. "We don't anymore." Most likely.

"Are you… OK?" Ruby asked, carefully.

"Yes." Belle sighed. "It was just a fight. I thought I could rely on him, but apparently not. That's all."

"Hey," Ruby put one hand on her arm, eyes earnest, "I don't pretend to know what's going on between you two, but it is obvious that you care about him. Don't write him off just yet. Maybe he'll surprise you."

God, she hoped so. "I really doubt it."


	7. Chapter 7

Rumplestiltskin wasn't there on the night of the sixteenth when the new moon signalled Belle's second Trial. Not really a surprise, given how they'd parted, but some small part of her had still hoped. It didn't matter, really. She was going through with it, with or without his help.

At least she'd thought to bring her own torch this time, as well as her Thermos. The thought of stumbling home after another Trial like the last, half out of her wits with the aftereffects of spending time in Faerie and without even a proper light had made her brew almost six cups of the tea, as well as pack some spare batteries for the torch.

Finding the fairy ring again was easy enough, which it probably shouldn't have been. Yes, the ring of mushrooms was noticeable if you were standing right in front of it, but Belle couldn't help but feel that she'd known exactly where it had been even before she'd entered the woods.

"Probably magic," she mumbled to herself as she stepped into the ring.

Her torch immediately dimmed and, after a few steps, went out entirely. Belle cursed and fumbled in her pocket for the spare battery, but switching them out didn't help one bit. Maybe the magic of Faerie interfered with the technology.

Belle frowned. No, that couldn't be right. Rumplestiltskin had had a flashlight the last time, and it had done just fine, even after they'd stepped through the ring. Unless he had put some kind of spell on the torch—which wasn't impossible, but seemed rather far-fetched—there was something else going on here. An irrational, impossible thought struck her. That she'd somehow taken a wrong turn and that this was already part of the Trial. That the darkness around her wasn't really that of a forest at night, but of that unnaturally dark place where nothing outside the light of her candle seemed to even exist. Her heart sped up and Belle had to concentrate to keep her breathing even. "It's not the Trial," she told herself. "It can't be. You didn't light your candle. You have to light your candle before the door will open, remember?"

It didn't help, but her own words sparked a thought and she took off the little backpack she'd taken with her to stow her Thermos and the candle, and fished out the box of matches she'd taken with her. She still didn't have a lighter, but she'd found the box in her kitchen and although they were fairly old, they still burned well enough. Belle struck a match and with the satisfying crunch of a kindling flame, the darkness around her retreated and she could see something of the trees around her. She was still in the woods. Belle breathed a sigh of relief, then quickly shook out her match as it threatened to burn her fingers.

"Hello?" Belle called, before realising what a bad idea that was. Nobody in Faerie had any reason to be well-disposed towards her, and Rumplestiltskin had even warned her that the Queen didn't want her to succeed.

Slowly, the realisation that she might be in trouble sunk in and Belle swallowed heavily against her suddenly dry throat. "It's all right," she reassured herself. "You can deal with this. Just keep walking. The Arch isn't that far from here and you already have the candle." If all else failed, she could still use _that_ for light, though even she could tell what a phenomenal waste of precious wax that would be. No, she would try to find the right place by herself, first. After all, the fairy ring had been easy enough.

And at that moment, she heard the barking.

It was faint. A good distance away from her, but getting closer even as she listened. And behind the barking was the sound of hooves, almost like thunder, and fear crept up Belle's spine like spreading frost that tingled all the way across her scalp. _It's not even real thunder!_ she yelled at herself, but the terrified part of herself that always took over whenever she got into a storm didn't want to listen to her. She just stood there, frozen in fear, unable to decide whether to run further into the forest, back to the fairy ring, or even try and hide from whatever was clearly coming for her. So Belle just stood still as the thunder came closer.

A hand closed around her upper arm and someone shouted at her, "Run!"

Belle dropped her matches in surprise and before she could even register what had happened, Belle was moving, running, all but flying over the uneven forest ground, somehow without breaking her legs on every second step.

They both stumbled into the clearing in what felt only moments later and Belle stared at her rescuer. She'd recognised his voice, of course, but she hadn't quite believed it. "What," she gasped, "are you doing here?"

"Saving your life, probably," Rumplestiltskin shot back at her. "Candle!"

Belle pulled it out of her backpack. "I dropped my matches," she told him as she held it out with both hands.

"Of course you did." He probably tried to sound exasperated, but his heart wasn't in it and he flicked his hand without further comment, lighting the candle with a flicker of dark-red flames before it settled into its more natural-looking gold.

"What do we—"

"No time!" Rumplestiltskin told her and all but shoved her towards the door. Belle raised one hand to keep herself from planting face first into it and it swung open. She could just about read the inscription to "Be Brave" from the corner of her eye, before she fell into the darkness once more and the door swung shut behind her.

* * *

 

The door shut behind them with a resounding _thump_ , leaving them alone in the darkness and the rain. Rumplestiltskin had to shut his eyes and fight down a spike of sudden panic. He had _not_  intended to be here. The first Trial had never been a concern for him, even when he'd thought the instruction referred to physical speed. As long as he was in Faerie, his leg was not an issue, after all, and his mind had always been one of his better features.

But this was different. He knew he wasn't brave, and while this was still Belle's trial and the fears they would have to face would be hers, Rumplestiltskin doubted he was the sort you'd want at your side during a trial of bravery.

Still, he was here, whether he wanted to or not, and his best bet of getting out in one piece was to support Belle. He tried not to think of the things that would scare a woman like her and opened his eyes again.

During his brief moment of weakness, the rain had picked up and now pelted them with almost like malicious intent. Thunder rumbled above. Opening his eyes again, Rumplestiltskin looked around for the thing or creature that would presumably appear to test Belle's courage, but saw nothing. All things considered, their surroundings looked almost benign. Dark, yes, but not malicious in any way, save for the freezing rain. Rumplestiltskin wiped water away from his face and turned to Belle to see if she could provide further insight into this place.

He found her standing right where the door had been, candle clasped in both hands, her eyes wide and sightless with terror.

"Belle?" he asked. Something about the sight of her made his stomach turn. A frightened Belle seemed... unnatural, somehow. As if a fundamental law of the universe had been upset. "Belle, can you hear me?"

If she did, she didn't respond. The storm picked up and Rumplestiltskin thought he could hear the wind rattling through unseen trees in the darkness. Belle flinched, her candle sputtering and burning lower. Alarm shot through Rumplestiltskin. The flame only burned as high as Belle's courage, and if it went out... If it went out, they would be lost in this place, him and her both, for when he had gone through the door with her, he had agreed to take part in her trial. "Belle, please, we need to move. If the candle goes out, all of this will be over."

Something like reason returned to her eyes, and for the first time since they'd tumbled through the door, she seemed to notice him. "I can't." Her voice barely sounded like herself, weak and strangled with fear. "I can't," she repeated.

Rumplestiltskin's first instinct was to chide her that of course she could, it was only a little rain, after all. But then he stopped himself. This place was meant to test _her_ courage, after all; no matter what he saw in the storm, it could be a completely different matter for her. "Why not?" he finally asked, hands still clasped tightly around hers.

"It's—" She hesitated. "It's the same storm," she managed.

He waited for her to continue, but she didn't. Lightning flashed overhead, and thunder rumbled less than a second later. She flinched, but he clasped her hands more tightly and prompted, "Which storm?"

"The one from seven years ago."

It didn't quite make sense, but he began to saw the outlines of it, then. On the night they'd first met, the Hunt had been riding, driving the clouds before them and bringing thunder in their wake. Even in the mortal world, it would certainly make for an impressive storm, though he wasn't sure why it had terrified Belle so thoroughly that it could still paralyse her years later. "Tell me about it," he suggested.

"It's when Maman disappeared. I went home, and she wasn't there." She shuddered. "Papa hadn't seen her, and I felt so strange, I couldn't explain what had happened. Not then."

Guilt rolled in Rumplestiltskin's stomach, though he knew he'd had no control over her becoming faestruck back then. "What happened then?"

"We went to look for her." Belle made the words sound like a kind of death sentence. "All evening. Most of the night. We were outside, looking for her, and calling, and she just wasn't there. We couldn't find her." A sob racked her body and the flame on her candle sputtered, nearly going out.

"Belle!" Rumplestiltskin tried to keep the edge of terror out of his voice but didn't quite succeed. "Belle, concentrate. That was seven years ago. The storm didn't hurt you then, and it can't hurt you now."

"It did hurt me," Belle said softly. "It took my parents away."

Rumplestiltskin paused. She'd said it with such resignation, such complete certainty that he didn't know what else to do. The candle had stopped sputtering, but the flame was barely visible; Rumplestiltskin only knew it hadn't blown out yet because their surroundings hadn't changed. At least he hoped that it meant the candle was still burning. Maybe that was the consequence for failing this trial—getting someone stuck in a hellscape of their own mind's making sounded very much like something his people would do. "How did it do that?" he asked. "Did something happen to your father?"

Belle laughed, actually _laughed_  at that. "No, he was fine. I mean, he didn't fall or have a stroke, or anything. He just... changed. Afterwards." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, the flame rekindled, and with it something behind her eyes. "He stopped talking to people. I think he didn't even want to talk to me, but he couldn't let me go, either. We moved away three months later, and papa never spoke of Storybrooke or maman again."

"He didn't want to be reminded of what he lost." For a moment, Rumplestiltskin didn't realise that he had spoken.

"I tried to talk to him, of course.” A sad expression very nearly like a smile crossed Belle's face. "Tried to remind him that I was still... alive. Maybe make him see that I was hurting, too. But he never answered me when I did and some day, I just stopped." She took a step, the effort clearly visible on her face. Rumplestiltskin matched her movements, never letting go of her hands, or looking away from her face, except to check on the candle. It burned brighter, but still not as it should.

"I didn't go to college. Papa's work didn't bring in much money, and it was easier to just find a job. And I was a mess, too, I just never let myself think about it. There was too much to do. Work was exhausting, and when I wasn't busy there, I had to look after papa. It's not that he started drinking or anything. Not much, anyway. He just... stopped doing just about anything." She sounded more confident now, though still clearly frightened. Rumplestiltskin felt her tremble whenever the thunder rolled above them. "Time came I had to come over and make sure he had enough to eat. That he'd paid his bills. That he left the house at all."

The picture was all too clear by now, but Rumplestiltskin still said aloud, "That sounds terrifying."

"It was!" Belle's hands tightened on the candle. "I know it's a horrible thing to say, but I kept thinking how _unfair_ it all was. Why did he get to be the one who broke down? Why did _I_ have to take care of _him_ , suddenly?" She looked up, rain running down her cheeks, dripping down from her jaw. "I wasn't afraid of storms right away, you know. All this," she jerked her head, "happened later. Because every time it rained, every time I heard the thunder, I kept thinking how I'd lost them both that night. And I did. It just took a little longer to notice with papa."

Lightning flickered right above them and for a moment, they were both bathed in the cold blue light, stark shadows on both their faces. "Belle," Rumplestiltskin said, as kindly and insistently as he knew how, "you have to keep moving."

She looked at him, face tight. "What if I don't?" she asked. "Maman left us! She went away and I was the one who had to deal with that. Why should I do any of this for her?" Either in anger or because part of her knew that they could not stay here. "She wasn't there, she won't know how bad it was, how much it destroyed papa when she disappeared. How it destroyed _me_!"

There was no way to tell whether it was rain running down her face, or if she was crying. Rumplestiltskin suspected that it was a little of both. But she kept going.

"None of us did anything wrong," Belle said, almost pleading.

"I know." Guilt churned in Rumplestiltskin's stomach. He couldn't tell her. He _mustn't_  tell her. Not only because it would break her and they would be lost in this storm, but because he still needed her. He still needed her to open the Dreaming Place, and if he told her about her mother, all that would be lost. "It's not fair," he said instead. "Nobody ever said it was. But you've been given a second chance. You can still find her. You can still save her. You just have to keep walking."

And she did. The steps didn't become easier. Rumplestiltskin could see the immense effort each of them took on her face, even as she kept on walking. And she kept telling him about her life. About how she'd buried her dreams one by one. How she'd buried her grief in the back of her mind and tried to forget about it as the years went on. How she'd moved out of her father's home and in with her then-boyfriend, a man who never thought much of her or anyone but himself, but who was loud and boisterous and _alive_  in a way that was at least better than the oppressive silence and unspoken recriminations at home. How she'd heard about her father's death over the phone, and how she'd been in the middle of arranging the funeral when her boyfriend had proposed and she'd blown him off because a lifetime alone would have been better than another week with him. How she'd come back to Storybrooke to finally bury the past, and maybe move on with her life.

"And then I saw you," she said. Rumplestiltskin had lost track of the steps they'd taken together, hands clutching the candle between them and eyes locked on each other. "I was ready to forget about all of this. To move on. And then you appeared, like a ghost from a past I wasn't sure had even existed."

Rumplestiltskin wasn't sure if it was an accusation, but he still said, "I'm sorry."

"Good." Belle shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. But I had all of this planned out. Why did you have to turn up and make it all so complicated, Rumple?"

Nobody had used a pet name for him in... well, more years than he cared to count. And nobody had ever spoken it with quite that amount of affection and endearment. He kept silent for several more steps, unsure how to reply until his back bumped into something. Rumplestiltskin realised he was staring at her and quickly dropped his gaze. "I think we have reached the beacon."

Belle blinked like someone waking from a dream. "We... have?" She glanced over his shoulder and raised her eyebrows. "Huh. That was easier than I thought." She glanced down at her candle. It had burned to little more than a stump. She grimaced. "Not much time for the third trial."

"Less if you don't light the beacon now," Rumplestiltskin reminded her. And carefully, reluctantly, he let go of her hands. Behind her, the clouds had shifted, and though the storm wasn't clearing entirely, it had certainly lessened since they'd reached the beacon.

Belle didn't reply, but managed a shaky smile at his feigned annoyance and held her candle to the beacon, which lit up almost immediately. After watching it burn for a moment, she took a deep breath. "I don't think I'll ever like thunderstorms again." There was something like regret in her voice. "I used to, you know? But you can't always go back to how things were."

Not knowing how to reply, Rumplestiltskin simply nodded. She seemed to have come to some kind of conclusion that he couldn't quite reach or understand, but she appeared much happier; as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She didn't quite look at him, but he could hear the smile in her voice when she asked, "Can you take my hand again?"

"But we've through the storm," Rumplestiltskin said. "The door is right there."

"I know." She let go of her candle—or what remained of it—with one hand and reached out to him. "Will you take my hand anyway?"

There wasn't much he could say to that, and so he did. Her palm was warm against his in a way that made it hard to concentrate on anything else. Before them, the door opened, and they stepped through, hand in hand. The shift was less harsh this time and both of them managed to keep their balance. For one golden moment, neither of them had a care in the world.

Then Rumplestiltskin heard the baying of hounds behind them and he knew they were still being hunted.


	8. Chapter 8

Belle barely had time to blow out the sad stump that remained of her candle--she wondered idly if it would count as cheating if she brought a bowl next time so she could make the wax last longer--when Rumple had already grabbed her by the arm and started pulling.

"We need to go," he said, and then Belle heard it, too. Rumbling hooves and barking dogs. Whatever had been hunting her, it was still coming. "What are they?" she asked, as they took off into the woods once more. "And what do they want?"

"The Queen's hunters." Rumplestiltskin called back. "Not as bad as the hunt. But bad enough." He made a gesture and a ball of light, roughly the size of Belle's head appeared over them. "I can't clear the whole path again," he huffed. "Better watch where you're going."

Belle did as she was asked and soon they were dodging over tree roots and fallen branches. Running through the woods at night, even with a light, was still not very much like actual running. "How did..." Belle had to gasp for air mid-sentence, and nearly stumbled over a half-rotten log. "How'd you do that earlier?" she managed on the second try. "With no light."

"Cleared a path." Rumplestiltskin was looking around nervously by now. "But it only works when the destination is a good focus point and the ring isn't." He held out his hand, almost as if without meaning to, and she took it before they went back to running.

"The ring is over there!" Belle pointed in the direction where she _knew_ the ring lay. She couldn't explain how, but she was as certain as she was of the location of her own limbs. On this side, the sensation was even more noticeable.

She didn't even see Rumple fall. She only felt the sudden emptiness when his hand flew out of hers and she nearly fell forward from the change in sensation and whirled around. He was still lying on the ground, kicking and stomping at something that had wrapped itself around his leg. Belle hurried back, even though he kept motioning for her to keep moving.

"Don't!" he shouted once she was at his side. "It draws on magic, it's going to kill you." The 'it' turned out to be a network of roots that had wrapped around his ankle and were growing upwards at an alarming speed.

"What is it?" Belle asked, trying to ignore the sound of the hunt in her ears.

"Drawroot tree," Rumplestiltskin said, sounding bitterly amused. "One that knows the smell of my magic." He tried to pull it off his leg once more but snatched back his hands when the hungry roots tried to grab onto them, too. "No use, it's not going to let go."

"What is it going to do?" Belle asked, stomach churning.

He looked at her as if she'd gone mad and maybe she had. She certainly knew that this was not the best moment to have a lengthy conversation. "It's going to grow all over me and then it's going to syphon off my magic until there's nothing left except my lifeless husk," he said through gritted teeth. "It will be slow and agonising, provided the hunters don't find me first and tear me into pieces. Neither of which is something you want to see, so I suggest you _run_."

"Is..." Belle swallowed against the terrified dryness in her throat. "Is it magic?"

"Unless you know of any plants in the mortal— yes it's magic!" Rumplestiltskin looked at her with suspicion. "What are you—"

"Then I am very sorry about this," Belle said and poured the contents of her Thermos over most of his leg.

He screamed, a high-pitched animal sound that bit into Belle's ears and drove tears of sympathy into her own eyes, but she did her best to ignore it as she poured her mountain ash tea—"rountree" as Rumple insisted on calling it—all over the aggressive roots. They immediately began to shrivel and burn away into nothing wherever they came in contact with the liquid. He hadn't been exaggerating when he said that the stuff burned away magic.

Just before she ran out of tea, the roots withdrew completely, leaving Rumplestiltskin free once more. She put the cap back on her bottle and stowed it away, ready to run the moment Rumple was back on his feet. But when she looked up again, he still hadn't moved, except to curl in further around his leg, breathing heavily.

Belle shook him as gently as she knew how. "Rumple," she said. "Rumple, we have to move. I'm sorry, but they're still coming, we have to go _right now_."

He still didn't react and with a strength born out of sheer panic, Belle slung one of his arms around her shoulder and pulled him up. He whimpered when the motion jarred his leg and Belle winced at the sound. "I've got you," she whispered. "It's OK, I've got you."

"Can't…" He gasped in a breath and tried once more, "You can't run like this. Leave me."

"No." Belle refused to waste any more breath on the argument. If he couldn't walk then he certainly wouldn't be able to struggle free and so she half-dragged him along in the direction where she hoped the fairy ring that would lead them to her house lay.

Of course the hunters caught up with them. They hadn't even made it halfway when Belle heard a low growl behind her and dropped to the ground just in time before a dog the size of a small pony sailed over her head. Rumple made a low groaning sound and lay still where they'd fallen while Belle got back to her feet. More dogs stepped out from between the trees, long-limbed creatures with lithe bodies that really deserved the name of "hounds" more than any animal Belle had seen in her life. Quickly, she took off her backpack again and unscrewed her Thermos. "Back with you!" she shouted.

To her mild surprise, the dogs really did back away. _They can probably smell the ash_ , she realised, and raised her voice again. "Oh yes! You don't like that, do you?" She heard something behind her and whirled around. One of the hounds had come closer and Belle flicked the flask in its direction, splashing a small amount of the little tea she had left on it. It howled and backed away, rubbing its nose with one paw whining the whole time.

"I've got more than enough of this to soak every single one of you!" Belle shouted and hoped that fae dogs didn't have some magical lie detector sense.

If they did, they still didn't want to risk being the one who got the rest of her improvised defence weapon. They circled her slowly, but made no move to attack. Belle had to remind herself that she couldn't run, even if they'd let her. She'd have to leave Rumple, and that was just not happening.

And it was very important to remember that when the hounds started to growl, a low rumbling noise that went straight past most of Belle's rational thinking to activate that animal part of her that was just fundamentally terrified of being eaten by something larger and with sharper teeth than her. She drew a step back and her heel connected with Rumple's side, which brought her back to reality. She couldn't leave him. No matter what, she _wouldn't_ leave him.

She just didn't know if she could get them out of this.

It was then that the hunter arrived. Belle had expected several, at least judging by the sound of hooves, but this one rode alone, an imposing figure in black and green armour that covered his entire body and face, leaving only the tiniest opening for his eyes. Belle immediately fixed her eyes on that opening, though she couldn't see anything behind it and lifted her Thermos. "Call back your dogs," she called, "or I'll burn their noses off with this!"

The hunter cocked his head at her, as if curious and Belle realised that he had no way of knowing what was in her flask.

"It's mountain— I mean, rountree," Belle said, stumbling over the unfamiliar syllables. "I know what it does to you people, so stay away from us and call. Back. Your. Dogs."

The hunter's head moved ever so slightly, and Belle imagined him looking between her and the dogs, considering. "I mean it!" she shouted, twitching the bottle as if to throw its contents at the hunter. A few drops must have flown out of it, because his horse flinched back with a noise of pain that sent a stab of guilt through Belle. She hadn't wanted to hurt the animal—it was hardly at fault for this situation—but she fought to keep the emotion off her face when she said, "Well? How do you want this to go?"

Now the hunter was staring at her and Belle could just about make out his eyes, dark and unreadable behind his helmet. Those eyes locked on hers and in that moment, Belle realised that he knew she was bluffing. He wasn't afraid. He was just deciding what to do about her.

She gritted her teeth and moved to stand more firmly between Rumple and the hunter. If they wanted to take him away, they would have to go through her, first.

She couldn't have said how long they stood there, the growling of the hounds filling the air and mingling with Rumple's laboured breathing. The hunter never took his eyes off her and Belle thought she saw some strange emotion them, though she could not have said what it was or what had prompted it. And then, just like that, the hunter held up his hand and turned his horse.

The hounds whined as if someone had taken away their treat, but they still followed the hunter as he rode back into the woods.

As soon as they were alone again, Belle turned to Rumple, who was still lying on the ground, motionless and unresponsive. She couldn't tell the colour of his face, but even under the scales, his skin felt cold and clammy when she put a hand against it.

If he was going anywhere, he certainly wasn't going to do it under his own power. Belle tried to pull him upright again, but without the immediate threat behind her, it turned out to be a much harder task than the first time around. She still managed to half-carry, half-drag him to the fairy circle and through to her world, even though she had to take several breaks to do it. And then the nausea hit her and she remembered why she had been carrying the flask of tea in the first place. She nearly pitched forward, only just catching herself—and Rumple—before they could both tumble to the ground. Belle was pretty sure that if she fell now, she wouldn't be getting up again until she had slept off the after-effects of the magic in her blood, and something told her that Rumple didn't have that much time.

The short distance between the woods and her house felt like miles. Every step was harder then the last, and even when she was certain that her feet were far too heavy to lift, she still had to keep going, still had to move, because if she stopped, if she allowed her body to even consider a moment's rest, it would be over.

Front door. Three steps up. She had to turn and grip Rumple under both arms to get him up. He was mumbling, but she couldn't hear what.

Door. Key, slipping from numb fingers. She hit the lock by instinct more than aim.

Through the door, tumbling against walls that were too close for two people side by side.

Living room. Black spots appeared in Belle's vision. She just had to make it a little further…

She collapsed to the floor but she didn't pass out, she couldn't pass out, yet, because... Her thoughts swam. Help. Rumple needed help. She had to...

"Belle?"

No, wait, that was wrong. She wasn't supposed to be here.

"Don't," Belle muttered, words barely louder than a breath. "Don't come in, Ruby. I'm..." She just needed to rest. Just for a little, then this would all make sense again.

Her head sagged back and the last thing she saw was Rumple's face, brows still furrowed in pain, golden scales glittering in the faint glow of her living room lights.


	9. Chapter 9

Belle woke up slowly, feeling far more comfortable than she thought she had any right to be. Somehow, she was in bed. She wasn't sure why that came as a surprise, but it did. Light shone in from outside, and when she looked in the direction of the window, it bit at her eyes with long, sharp fangs.

_Fangs like knives in mouths watering with bloodlust._

Belle shot up in bed and nearly tripped over her own feet. Someone had taken off her shoes before putting her to bed and put them right next to her bedside. She swore under her breath as she disentangled herself from the mess and heard a door open. When she looked up, Ruby was standing over her, her face a mixture of annoyance and deep concern.

"So," she said once Belle had straightened up again. "You're awake."

It took Belle a moment before she remembered the last few moments before she'd passed out in the living room. "Why--" She stopped, gathering her thoughts. "How's Ru-- Gold?"

"Not great," Ruby said. "But he started screaming the moment I tried to call an ambulance, so he's still on your couch." She crossed her arms, eyebrows raised and lips pursed in a way that made Belle suddenly keenly aware that she was, in fact, very closely related to Granny.

"Can I see him?"

"He's asleep right now," Ruby said, her expression softening ever so slightly. "I bandaged his leg and gave him some water. I don't think that's going to do much, but at least he doesn't look worse so far."

Belle nodded slowly. "I... suppose you have questions."

"You could say that, yes." Ruby didn't look particularly impressed by her approach. "You can start by telling me what is going on with Gold's skin. Because I don't think that's cosplay."

Belle couldn't help it--she snickered. Though when Ruby didn't even crack a smile, she quickly sobered. "Look, can we at least sit down?" she asked. "My head is still pounding."

"Yes, that would have been the next question." Ruby glared at her for a moment longer, before she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Belle, but you scared the hell out of me. I thought you were going to die. Both of you, really."

"Sorry, I didn't..." Belle frowned. "What were you actually doing at my house? It was the middle of the night."

"Early morning, really," Ruby said. "And I asked first."

With a heavy sigh, Belle sat down on her bed. "You might want to sit, too," she said.

"Later, maybe," Ruby said. "Let's hear it."

"He's not human," Belle said after a moment. "I mean... he is, in all the important ways. But he's also fae. Always has been." She tried on a little smile. "And he's only been living here for seven years, by the way."

Ruby frowned. "But I can remember him being here before that."

"But can you actually remember seeing him in that time? Did he do anything memorable? Talk to anyone?"

It took a while, during which Belle grabbed the glass of water that someone--almost definitely Ruby--had set on her bedside table and drank a few gulps. It tasted sweeter than anything had the right to.

"No," Ruby said finally. "No, I don't." She sounded genuinely disturbed. "That's ridiculous. How would he even do that?"

Belle shrugged. "Magic."

Again a long pause, in which Belle found herself wishing for another glass of water. Finally, Ruby said, "I think I'll sit down now."

Belle explained everything—or at least the parts that were hers to explain—over the next half-hour. At some point, Ruby declared that they both needed a decent breakfast and about a gallon of fresh coffee and Belle couldn't disagree. While Ruby busied herself in the kitchen, Belle sat down in the living room to watch Rumple sleep. His face still looked drawn, but at least he didn't look to be actively in pain right now.

Belle was just about to check in on Ruby, when Rumple's hand shot out from under his covers and grabbed her wrist with surprising strength. Belle suppressed a yelp and instantly sat down again. "Rumple?" she asked softly.

His eyelids fluttered, but didn't open. "No hospital," he mumbled.

"We didn't call an ambulance," Belle reassured him. "You're at my home." She took a deep breath. "How can I help you?"

"Rest." His grip was already slackening. "Need rest. A lot." He grimaced. "Hurts."

Belle winced in sympathy and not a small amount of guilt. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," he assured her. "Good thinking. Just…" His hand dropped down. "Sleep first." And with that, he had apparently drifted off again. Belle waited for a moment before she took his arm and carefully tucked it back under his blanket. She checked on his injured leg—the same he had already been favouring as Gold, she noticed—and found it tightly wrapped in fresh white bandages. Ruby had clearly done a good job there.

With not much else to do, Belle decided to join her friend in the kitchen where she finished her explanations.

"And yesterday was the second Trial," she told Ruby after another round of question-and-answer. "And the Black Fairy... the fae queen, I mean, sent a hunter after us. Or after me, I guess." The memory still made her insides tighten with terror. If that hunter hadn't decided to spare her for some reason, Belle _knew_ that she would be dead. "Anyway, Rumple got injured and I had to drag him back to the house. Except I got faestruck when I left Faerie, so I was really in no condition to do that and that's why I passed out on the living room floor."

Ruby had slowly nodded along to her entire explanation. "OK," she said, "that makes sense."

"It... does?"

"I mean, it explains what I saw when I got here yesterday, and it explains a lot of things about the last couple of weeks. And I don't think you'd just lie to me about something like this, so... yes, I'd say it does."

Belle could almost feel her heart become several pounds lighter at that. "So you're not angry?" she asked.

"Oh, I am," Ruby said. "You could have _told_ me! We're friends, I could have helped you."

"I didn't think," Belle admitted. "I didn't even know where to start and it didn't feel real, even to myself, and..."

Ruby held up a hand. "That's enough apologising. Just do better next time."

Belle laughed. "All right. Next time I find out about a secret magic world existing right next to ours, you'll be the first I tell."

"Great!" Ruby grinned at her for a moment, before her face became serious again. "Now, as for your Mr Gold--"

"His name is actually Rumplestiltskin," Belle said.

"No it's not."

" _That's_ where you draw the line?" Belle asked, suppressing a grin, before she, too became serious again. "I have no idea how to help him, I'm afraid. What did his leg look like?"

Ruby pulled a face. "Bad. Full of tiny holes, for one thing, and there's other stuff, too. Looks almost burned, but not like a normal burn, either. I don't know what's going on, but I know it's not good."

"I think I'll just have to wait until he's awake enough to answer questions," she said. Then she remembered something. "I was going to ask earlier, but how did you even know we were in trouble?"

Ruby made a face. "Someone called me in the middle of the night. No idea who; they had no ID. Just said you were hurt and that I had to hurry."

"Anonymous tip?" Belle asked. "I thought that only happened to the police."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I wouldn't have minded if they _had_ gotten Graham out of bed, instead."

Belle laughed, a sharp, short sound, cut shorter by her own lack of energy. "I'll try to be seen by more considerate people next time." She saw Ruby yawn and added, "I think we'll be all right for now. Go home, you look exhausted."

"Only because I am." Ruby still got up without protest, and Belle did so with her. "You sure you'll be OK?"

She _didn't_ say "are you sure you won't keel over as soon as I leave?" and Belle appreciated that restraint. "He said he just needs rest, and I can keep an eye on him." She smiled at Ruby. "Thank you. For showing up _and_ for listening."

They hugged and Ruby pushed her out to arm's length. "Not a problem. You hear me? Helping you is never a problem."

Belle could only mutter another "Thank you" and Ruby laughed one more time before she left the house. Belle closed the door behind her, before she returned to Rumple's makeshift bedside to watch over his fitful sleep.

* * *

 

It turned out that Rumple hadn't exaggerated when he'd said that he needed a lot of rest. Belle carried him up to her own bed later that day and it took him another two before he woke up for more than a few seconds at a time; seconds during which Belle made sure to press some water on him, to which she later added sugar. She wasn't sure how much it helped, but he was still adamant on staying out of the hospital and she really didn't want him to dehydrate.

When he finally _did_ wake up, it was yet another two days before he could actually get up—with assistance—and move around on his own. Belle knew the new moon would come and go before he was even close to recovered, but she'd made her peace with that. Once was enough; she wouldn't attempt the last Trial by herself if she could help it at all.

Ruby checked in twice in that time, both times carrying a "supply basket" as she liked to call it. Belle managed to get her to accept money for the groceries the second time around, and promised herself to get Ruby some kind of gift once she felt comfortable leaving Rumple alone for long enough to shop for one.

The burns from the hot tea faded fairly quickly, but those hadn't been the worst part of Rumple's injuries. From his description, it almost sounded like all the muscles in his leg had atrophied, but Belle had to admit that she only understood half of what he said. She suspected that you had to be at least partly magical yourself to understand the finer points of how the mountain ash had damaged him. Every time she tried to apologise, however, he waved her off.

"I'd rather lose the whole leg than have that tree get me." He shuddered when he said it, a faraway look in his eyes. "Or the Black Fairy, for that matter. I'm surprised she tried something this blatant. Maybe she's more worried about your possible success than we thought."

They were eating a slightly early dinner at his bedside after he'd exhausted himself going up the stairs once to see the rest of the house "out of curiosity" as he said.

"I didn't think she was worried about my success at all," Belle said. "I just thought she was angry because you bullied her into agreeing to let me attempt the Trials at all."

He snorted, but it was a good-natured sound of amusement. "Yes, and you had nothing at all to do with it, I'm sure." Carefully, he leaned over and poured himself some more juice. Belle didn't offer to help him; she knew that no matter how well he seemed to take it, he hated being stuck in bed like this and doing little things for himself seemed to help. "But that is exactly my point; this was a risk for her. Now that her hunters have failed, people are going to assume that you are a legitimate threat to her, which can only harm her reputation overall. Why do that if she didn't think of you as a threat already?"

"Or maybe it's you she wanted to get rid off," Belle suggested. "You two aren't exactly on great terms."

"A fair assumption, but I highly doubt she wishes me any real harm."

"You just said you'd rather lose a leg than get caught by her people," Belle reminded him.

"Ah, but I didn't say they would kill me. No, our differences are of a more… personal nature." He must have seen the confusion on Belle's face, because he sighed; a long, drawn-out sound as if he'd been holding it back for a while. "She's my mother," he said, not quite looking at Belle.

"Your... as in "your actual mother"?" she asked, unable to stop herself, the thought was just too bizarre; it didn't want to fit in her head.

"For a narrow definition of "motherhood", yes. She carried me to term and birthed me, but she certainly had no hand in raising me." He stared down at his own hands as he spoke. "My father never quite forgave me that she left, and the only real parents I ever knew were two kindly spinsters who took me in after my father abandoned me." He looked wistful for a moment. "Long gone now, of course. All that happened centuries ago."

"So you were human?" Belle asked.

"Partly human." Rumple nodded. "A changeling child, they call it. Part of both Faerie and the mortal world until the day we make our choice for one or the other." He shrugged. "I don't think the Black Fairy ever forgave me for choosing the mortal world over her when she arrived in all her splendour to take me away to her palace in the forest." He flashed a bitter smile. "She never was mortal; I doubt she could understand the appeal."

"But you're not…" Belle gestured vaguely, encompassing his entire appearance that was still decidedly inhuman at this point; he had said that using magic was still not a good idea for him.

"I returned to Faerie later in life for reasons of my own, and by means other than my birthright." He smiled a joyless smile. "Another thing I doubt my mother will ever forgive me. It's the reason they call me "Dark One". It's not meant to be a flattering title."

"Yes, I had that impression," Belle said. She still had difficulty believing that any parent would treat their children the way the Black Fairy treated Rumple. Then again, she'd had her own issues with her father, hadn't she? If they'd both been more stubborn and a little more immortal, those differences of opinion could well have been dragged into something even less pleasant and more toxic.

Maybe it wasn't such a huge surprise, after all.

"That still doesn't explain the hunters," Belle said to distract herself from the bleak direction of her own thoughts.

"No, but I suspect we won't find out as long as we are stuck in here," Rumple said, a little ruefully. "With some luck, the Queen was just in a bad mood and it won't happen again."

"Is that likely?"

"No," Rumple admitted. "But not impossible, either."

Belle smiled a tired smile and tried not to imagine running for her life to reach the next Trial. At least as long as they were in here, they could have some respite. "I wanted to ask something else," she said after another moment's silence.

"Why am I not surprised?"

"It's about the Dreaming Place," she added.

A grim expression crossed Rumple's face, but he nodded. "Ask."

"I was wondering... how many other people are there?"

"Ah." Rumple looked anything but happy about the question. "I don't know. Nobody does. A lot of them. Dozens, maybe hundreds."

Belle's head swam at the thought of it. She imagined hundreds of people—mostly children, if she had understood that correctly—stuck in that strange place she'd nearly died at least once to reach. "What are we going to do about them?" she asked softly.

Rumple looked at her like she'd started speaking in tongues. "Beg pardon?"

"You just told me that there are maybe hundreds of people stranded in that place. What do we do, how do we save them?"

"I… don't think we can," said Rumple. He sounded genuinely puzzled and it was quite possibly the most infuriating thing Belle had ever heard from him.

"So your plan is... what? That we just leave them there?"

"There's not really an alternative," Rumple said, though he looked decidedly uncomfortable doing so. "Not only is there a very real chance that Faerie would collapse in on itself without them, just removing them from the Dreaming Place won't necessarily wake them up."

"What do you mean 'not necessarily'?" Belle asked. "Do you mean there is a chance they will?"

"I don't know," Rumple admitted. "I've never actually seen it happen."

"Oh, great." Belle tried to keep down her surge of anger, not so much because he didn't deserve it and more because he was really not in the shape for another fight. "When were you planning to tell me that I might get my mother back only to have her be stuck in a coma for the rest of her life?"

His eyes widened in alarmed understanding. "No, no, you misunderstand. That was never a concern—I assume you love your mother?"

Again, Belle reminded herself that punching the man in the nose, while possibly very satisfying, would probably not help him heal. "Yes," she grated out. "Yes, I do. Very much so."

"And I assume that feeling is returned. You can wake her with True Love's Kiss; the spell won't be a problem for you."

Belle raised her eyebrows. "That's a real thing?" she asked.

"Of course." Rumple looked almost offended that she might have thought differently. "It's the strongest magic of all."

"Considering it's the only magic I can use…" Belle shook her head. "Still. We'll have to talk about this, all right? I'm not leaving all those children behind just so I can get my mom free." Saying it hurt, but she knew that Colette would never forgive her if she did anything else. More than that, Belle wouldn't forgive herself.

"You made that sound like a threat," Rumple said.

"It is." Belle stabbed at her last potato with little enthusiasm. "But there's no point fighting about it if you don't know anything more."

They ate the remains of their dinner in silence and after Belle had cleared away their plates, the silence stretched until it became nearly uncomfortable.

"You know what we need?" Belle asked when she couldn't take the silence any longer.

"Do tell."

"Ice cream." The look on his face almost made her burst out with laughter, but she kept going. "Ruby's baskets are great, but I really should get some groceries myself, and I thought ice cream would be a good idea."

"I wouldn't know," Rumple said. "I never tried it."

Belle looked at him with mock horror. "Oh, come on. You must have eaten ice cream before."

"I do not spend much of my time in the mortal world," he said, a little defensively.

"Except for the last seven years," Belle countered.

"During which I tried to be as much of an anti-social recluse as possible, to avoid attention from an entire fae Court living next to my home."

"You could have gotten it from the grocery store!" Belle couldn't quite keep the teasing tone out of her voice. It wasn't quite fair to him, but the idea that someone with Rumple's sweet tooth had never had ice cream in his life just seemed utterly ridiculous. He grumbled something about never getting around to it, and Belle laughed. "All right, we can't have this. I'm getting us ice cream right now."

"I don't think that will be necessary," Rumple said, looking decidedly embarrassed.

"Speak for yourself. I've been cooped up in this place for _days_." And worried sick, a lot of the time, she didn't add. "I need the sugar, even if you don't. And I think we're running low on milk."

"Then it really _is_ an emergency," Rumple agreed gravely. "I would hate to drink my coffee black."

Belle smiled, relieved that some of the tension had left the room, although she was still not entirely happy with the outcome of the conversation. She decided that it was a topic for later, when they both were healthy and whole again and got up. "I'd better move, then," she said. "Store's closing soon."

Instead of answering, Rumple simply reached for the book she'd left at his bedside table. It was a strangely domestic look on him, but Belle found that she liked it.

The realisation hit her, of all places, on her way to the grocery store. She'd been glancing at the displays in other shop windows in passing, wondering if this chair might fit in her mother's old study where she'd had to throw out both of the old ones, or if this framed picture might make a good addition to the somewhat bare walls in her living room and stopped dead in her tracks when she became aware of the direction of her own thoughts. At some point in the last days, she'd started to think of the old house as hers. As a place where she was going to live because _she_ wanted to. Part of her wondered how much of that was owed to Rumple's presence in the house that gave it a lived-in, homely feel she hadn't really felt since coming back, but the larger part was too busy marvelling at her realisation. She was going to stay in Storybrooke. She was home now.

The trip to the grocery store was filled with a buzzing kind of joy that seemed entirely out of place for the mundanity of the task, but Belle didn't care. She picked out three small tubs of ice cream that looked appealing, as well as getting some milk and, after a moment's thought, a bottle of wine. She felt like celebrating her decision, even though she suspected that her subconscious had made it several days ago.

On her way back, she ran into Ruby and Mulan again, who were going in the same direction as her, another one of Ruby's "supply baskets" carried between them.

"Hey there, Belle." Ruby gave her a one-armed hug when she caught up with them while Mulan gave her a short but warm smile. "We were just coming over, but it looks like you've come out of the hermit hut."

"It's my house, thank you very much," Belle replied with feigned haughtiness, before breaking into a smile. "But thank you. These really helped." She glanced at Mulan, not knowing how to ask Ruby how much she knew. Rumple didn't wear his disguise around the house, and a visitor who wasn't in the know might get a nasty shock.

"Mulan and I are going out right after this," Ruby explained. "We're just dropping off the basket so I don't have to worry about you starving in your exile."

"It's nice to be thought of," Belle said to Mulan, "even if it's not very charitably."

Mulan gave a small laugh and the three of them carried on towards Belle's home.

* * *

 

Rumplestiltskin had dozed off while Belle was away; his injuries were healed enough that he could get up and walk for short distances—provided he used his cane, of course—but he still tired easily. He was woken by the approach of another fae presence and the spike of adrenaline had him alert and nearly on his feet before he could stop himself, his aching body reminding him what a markedly terrible idea it would be to start jumping around.

Still, there was no mistaking it: there was another fae close to the house, and they were coming closer. Running away ways not an option and he was in no shape do defend himself and would have to rely on Belle's threshold to keep attackers away, but at least he didn't want to be found lying in bed if they did make it through the door.

Said door now swung open and he could hear several female voices, one of them Belle's and one belonging to the young Ms Lucas who had found them both after their... incident. Apparently, she had taken the news of the existence of Faerie quite well, though she was still noticeably uncomfortable around Rumplestiltskin himself. Though whether that was because of his inhuman nature or just because she was used to disliking Mr Gold was anyone's guess.

He stretched out his senses to look for the strange fae again and almost physically drew back. They had to be right in front of the door.

"Belle," he called, forcing a calm into his voice he didn't feel. "Belle, I think you should come inside."

"In a moment!" she called back.

"I mean right _now_ ," he said and put every ounce of urgency he could muster into the word. "And close the door behind you." It would make no difference--if the threshold wouldn't keep intruders away, a wooden door wouldn't help--but it made him feel better. Some of his more mortal habits had never really died.

Apparently, Belle understood that the situation was serious, even if she didn't really know why. She and Ms Lucas came into the living room, looking concerned. "Did something happen?" Belle asked.

"I... thought there might be someone following you," Rumple said. "But they shouldn't be able to come in."

"You should have let me put that horseshoe above the door," Belle said, but her face was serious when she did it. "We'll just put these away, all right? Shout when something happens."

He wanted to go protest that the groceries could wait, but the moment the two of them had left for the kitchen, he heard another set of footsteps. And with them, the fae presence came closer. Whoever it was, they were already inside; probably at the same time as Belle and Ms Lucas.

Rumplestiltskin tried very hard not to panic and tried to reach for his magic, through the aches the drawroot and rountree had left behind, but without luck. There just wasn't any left in him.

A young woman entered the living room, face set in a determined mask that made it easy to recognise her for what she was. "Did she send you to finish the job, then?" he asked, voice rasping in his throat through the barely-suppressed fear.

"No," the young woman said, almost sadly. "Belle was the job. Fetching you is how I make up for failing her."

Strange, how calm he felt at this moment, considering he was all but defenceless. "I feel like I should know the name of my would-be captor," he said and sketched the closest thing to a bow that his weakened state would allow him. "Rumplestiltskin. I wish we could have met under other circumstances."

"Mulan." She did not elaborate on it.

"Well then, Mulan, let me ask you this: what do you think will happen to Belle if I'm not there to help her with her next Trial?" he asked. "Or are you going to take over that duty for me? Lead her into the darkness, then throw the door closed behind her?"

The fae woman's face twisted into something unpleasant. "I would never do that to her," she growled. "It would break—" She only just stopped herself, but the "damage", such as it was, was already done.

Rumplestiltskin glanced over his shoulder to where Ms Lucas was still helping Belle with the groceries. "So that's what happened," he said softly. "I did wonder." Romance between mortals and the fae was always a fraught matter—his own life was a testament to that. But in the current climate of hostilities and mistrust… no, he certainly didn't envy this young fae the turns her heart had so clearly taken.

His eye caught Belle's, who frowned in that way that he knew meant she was thinking far too quickly for his good. Rumplestiltskin thought of trying a reassuring smile, but realised how out of character that would look and so just shrugged, at which she went back to her work.

When he turned back to Mulan, he found a battle raging on the young fae's face. He kept looking at her for another moment before asking, "Does she even know?"

That seemed to decide something. Mulan straightened her shoulders, shaking her head. "What am I doing?" she whispered, before looking Rumple straight in the eye. "Tell her I'm sorry. I'll have to go back to Court and…" She shrugged. "Deal with this."

Rumplestiltskin could imagine what the consequences of disobedience twice over might be, but he hid his wince of sympathy in a nod of thanks. "I will."

The moment Mulan left the house, his legs all but gave out under him, the healthy one as well as the injured, and he had to sit down. At that moment, Belle and Ms Lucas returned. "Did you talk to—" Belle began, before looking around with a frown. "Where's Mulan?"

"She left," Rumplestiltskin said, feeling suddenly as old as every single one of his centuries. "And she asked me to tell you," he nodded towards Ms Lucas, "that she is sorry."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ms Lucas asked, looking suddenly very pale.

"I fear your companion is of my kind, as well," Rumplestiltskin explained. "I suspect she was originally sent to keep an eye on me and got… distracted."

Halfway through his explanation, Ms Lucas had sat down, face ashen and hands trembling. "She can't be," she mumbled. "I mean, she…" She stared at Rumplestiltskin, almost accusatory. "She looks nothing like you!"

"I look nothing like me either, once I put up my disguise," he told her patiently. "I can only tell you what happened, and that was that she came in here with the intention of taking me to the Black Fairy, presumably in chains." He sighed. "If it's any consolation, I am all but certain that she stayed her hand for your sake."

Ms Lucas didn't react, instead staring blankly ahead. Belle crouched down next to her and threw Rumplestiltskin a half exasperated, half pleading look. "Why did she leave, then?" she asked when it became clear that her friend would not take part in the conversation for a while yet.

"She has disobeyed her Queen," Rumplestiltskin said simply. "And as a loyal subject, she has returned to Court to face the consequences of that." He left out that it had been more than once. He doubted it would help matters much.

"Consequences?" Belle asked. "What kind—"

"Unpleasant ones that I would not like to explain in front of the woman she loves," Rumplestiltskin interrupted her.

Now it was Belle's turn to go pale. A fine villain he had made in this tale, and only by carrying bad news. Silence fell over the small living room, heavy and uncomfortable, until Ms Lucas broke it.

"How do I get her back?" She barely sounded like herself and her face was still slack with shock, but even from his place on the couch, Rumplestiltskin could see the fire that had kindled in her eyes.

That… was something he hadn't even thought about. "I'm not sure you can," he said carefully. "The Queen dislikes challenges to her authority, as Belle's and my recent experiences show.

"I don't care," Ms Lucas said. "I'm not leaving her there. How do I get her _back_?"

" _You_ don't," Belle said, sounding much more certain than Rumple thought she reasonably could. "We will. Right, Rumple?"

"Not a chance," her friend snapped. "She's _my_ girlfriend."

"And _you_ aren't mixed up in all of this, yet," Belle shot back. "Please, Ruby, these people are dangerous. If we can get Mulan back without them ever seeing you, isn't that better?"

"She does have a point," Rumplestiltskin said. It wasn't a lie, he told himself. It was a good point, even if not a very practical one. And in the back of his mind, another plan was already forming.

"Can we go there tonight?" Belle asked. "Before… well, before anything happens to her?"

That was probably their best bet, even though the thought of leaving the house and walking the whole distance to the Black Fairy's palace filled him with apprehension, he couldn't really deny it. "That… might be for the best. He nodded to Belle. "Tonight is the autumn equinox. The first Celebration of Night. We should be able to get an audience long before the Queen has the opportunity to deal with any troublesome vassals."

Belle sighed and looked down at her clothes. "I'll put on something warmer."

"If you can find something for me, as well…" Rumplestiltskin shrugged when she raised an eyebrow at him. "I haven't had the chance to pick my wardrobe in these last days. A coat might be useful."

Belle rolled her eyes, but nodded and left the room to find things to wear. As soon as she was gone, Rumplestiltskin turned to Ms Lucas who was eyeing him suspiciously. "Did you just lie to her?" she asked.

"No," Rumplestiltskin said, honestly. "I'm a guest under her roof and I couldn't lie to her if I wanted to. She did have a point and it would be better if the two of us could retrieve your lady love without any further confrontation." He sighed. "But I do not think it likely. Which is where you come into play."

"Not sure what you think I can do that you can't," Ms Lucas said. "But let's hear it."

Belle's footsteps were still retreating, so Rumple took a seat before he continued. "Have you ever heard of the ballad of Tam Lin?"


	10. Chapter 10

Despite her earlier bravado, Belle found that she was really in no hurry to meet the Black Fairy again, and she suspected that they would be doing exactly that before the night was out. "Tell me again," she said, "what exactly our plan is?"

"Asking politely," Rumple said, sounding like a man who knew how entirely unconvincing he was. The only good thing about this evening was probably how much his condition had improved the moment they'd stepped through the fairy circle. He had assured her that it was only the effect of the ambient magic and that it wouldn't last once they left, but for the moment, Rumple seemed almost back to his normal self.

"Liar," she said.

"Rarely." A hint of mischief glinted in his eyes.

Belle gritted her teeth. "You do know how much I hate it when you leave me in the dark."

Something odd happened to his face when she said that. A tightening in the corners of his mouth, a twitch of the brow that she couldn't quite place. But it quickly smoothed out when he  asked, "Are you a good liar, Miss French?" He had dropped his glamour as soon as they'd entered Faerie, and for a moment, Belle was lost in the sight of his deep amber eyes.

 _Concentrate_ , she chided herself, before shaking her head. "No, I suppose not."

"Then why risk discovery?" He faced the mansion again. "We just need to get the Black Fairy out into the open as quickly as possible, everything else is fairly uncomplicated, though not necessarily easy."

Belle looked glumly at the house, a completely different thought on her mind than the admittedly very pressing matter of getting Mulan back. "You know," she said, "just for once, I'd like to go to one of these and not be underdressed." Immediately, she went red at the absurdity of her complaint. "Sorry. That was inappropriate."

Oddly enough, Rumple didn't look mocking or annoyed with her when she glanced at him. "Why?" he asked, apparently curious.

"It's just..." Belle stuck a lock of hair behind her ears. "Look, it's the second time I'm going to a fairy tale ball, and I'm still wearing my summer coat. It just seems like a waste."

"That is easily fixed," Rumple said. "If you like...?" He made an inviting gesture with one hand.

It still took Belle a moment to realise what he meant. "You mean... you could make me a dress? Won't you need your magic for... later?"

"I could weave a glamour in shape of a dress, but yes, essentially. And conserving magic has only ever been a problem in the mortal world." He smirked. "Just be home before midnight."

"Don't laugh," Belle said. "I think you'd make an excellent fairy godmother."

"I really hope not." Rumple feigned horror at the thought, but the smile still lingered in the corners of his eyes. "Hold still."

Belle did. On an impulse, she even closed her eyes and waited, as a faint tickle ghosted over her skin.

"You can open your eyes."

She did so and couldn't hide the little gasp of delight when she looked down at herself. The dress clung to her upper body with embroidered vines of pale gold, to then flare out into a wide skirt of the same pale colour, separated from her dark hair with the rich golden bodice It looked like it had been made for her and technically, it had been. She lifted the skirts ever so slightly, to find her feet encased in daintily high-heeled dance shoes with golden patterns. She frowned. "It feels as if I'm still wearing boots."

"You are," Rumple said. "Just as you're still wearing your coat. But I thought it would be impractical to feel like you are walking around the forest in heels." He had "changed", too, while Belle'd had her eyes closed. Brown and red leathers hugged his figure over a billowing golden shirt. He looked stunning and again, Belle had to remind herself not to stare.

Instead, she looked at the mansion, which lay still some distance from them away and grimaced. "Maybe we should have waited until we got inside." She smoothed her skirt down, feeling a little ridiculous.. "This thing is going to track in half the forest by the time we get to the ball."

"Now, that is the advantage of wearing clothes made from the imagination--dirt doesn't have one, and it won't cling to the dress, either." He hesitated for a moment before holding out his arm. "May I?"

With a wide smile, Belle linked her arm through his. She knew that they were about to walk into the proverbial lion's den, but part of her still felt giddy with anticipation. For once, she actually knew what she was getting into. More than that, she was doing it to help a friend. Of course, she was going through her trials to help someone else--her mother--too, but Belle knew that it was in equal parts for her own benefit. And that wasn't a bad thing, but this was still different. This felt like... an adventure.

"If I had known you liked the Court so much, I'd have brought you back sooner," Rumple commented.

Belle gave him an affectionate shove. "It's not the Court that I like."

To her delight, he seemed quite flustered by this, looking away from her face and clearing his throat far more audibly, Belle thought, than necessary. "Right," he said. "Now, it's important that we don't get thrown out of court, so maybe you'll let me do the talking."

"I don't mind. But you're not exactly a diplomat, either."

"At least _I_ know that I'm being rude while I'm doing it!" He glared at her, but relented at her amused expression. "Why do I feel that you're not taking me very seriously."

"I take you very seriously," Belle told him. "I'm just not afraid of you."

He looked at her with a dazed expression that Belle had no time to dwell on, because they reached the mansion at that moment. Maybe a little more quickly than he would have otherwise, Rumple stepped in front of her to open the door, so they could step into the ballroom together.

It was almost as overwhelming as the first time, and Belle had no compunctions about steadying herself against Rumple until her head had stopped spinning. The room seemed darker than before, though she could still see just as clearly. The first tendrils of music tried to wrap around her mind, and she quickly refocused her attention somewhere else.

"You don't really get used to it," she said softly.

"Mortals don't," Rumple agreed. He caught her glare and shrugged. "I just had to say."

"No need to sound so smug about it," Belle said, but her heart wasn't in it. "What do we do now?"

"We wait until Regina decides that it's time to stop lurking," Rumple said, much louder than their conversation really required. "And have a little talk like civilised people."

"A civilised person would have come to greet me," Regina said, rather pointedly. "I did not expect you to celebrate the equinox, Rumplestiltskin."

"I am a member of Court, am I not?" Rumple asked. "Though I would also like to speak to the queen."

"Of course you do." Regina looked deeply unimpressed. "And you expect me to go and tell her, I suppose."

"That would be helpful." Rumple smiled at her with an expression that held absolutely no warmth or joy.

"We really just need to talk to her," Belle said, "then we'll be out of your way."

Regina frowned at her, clearly puzzled, before composing herself. "Somehow I doubt I will be that lucky," she said, but nevertheless turned around and left.

"That... was surprisingly fast," Rumple said.

"Maybe you could try asking nicely next time," Belle suggested.

"The very thought!"

Rumple led her further into the ballroom, and Belle began to understand what he had meant last time when he'd said that celebration had only been "a small affair". Last time, the room had seemed vast, but this time, Belle could barely see its edges. And there were more than enough fae to fill it to a degree that made it at least slightly challenging not to step on anyone's toes. "Are they all here to see the Black Fairy?" Belle asked.

"No. They're celebrating the Equinox." Rumple glanced around, apparently taking note of the faces around them. "That's why you won't find many fae from the Summer or Spring courts here. This is a celebration of the dying of the year, and all the fae of winter and darkness have come to mark its passing."

Belle nodded, as if this all made perfect sense. And admittedly, she could at least guess at some of what Rumple had just told her. "So what now?" she asked after a moment. "Do we just... wait?" It seemed somewhat anticlimactic, but she supposed that if they really wanted to talk to the Black Fairy, the didn't have much of a choice. Provided that really was the plan.

"Well, it is essential that we make a bit of a spectacle of ourselves," Rumple said. He didn't seem too perturbed by the notion, and Belle supposed that nobody who wanted to be overlooked would wear pants like that. A moment later she realised what she had been thinking and a red-hot blush shot into her cheeks. She desperately hoped that Rumple wouldn't notice. Judging by his smug expression, she would have no such luck.

"So." Belle cleared her throat. "What did you have in mind?"

As if in answer, he stepped slightly away from her to bow in her direction. "Would you do me the honour of sharing this dance with me?" he asked.

She almost said yes without another thought, but Belle stopped herself, still very aware of the all too enticing music. "I'm not sure that's a good idea," she hedged.

He seemed to understand her worry, because he smirked. "Ah, yes. I remember. But you were trying to step onto the floor on your own, then. I can shield you from the effects of the music, if you let me." When she still didn't reply, he extended one hand to her, eyes entreating. "Trust me."

He sounded so earnest. So sure. And he really wanted to dance with her. So Belle took his hand. "Completely," she said and she meant it.

The music surged when they stepped out on the dance floor, though Belle could not say if that was a change in the tune or in her experience of it. And Rumple kept his word--she could still feel the music pulling at her, but resisting its whispers was no harder than it had been at the edges of the dance floor.

As Rumple pulled her close, resting one hand just above her waist, Belle remembered something else and felt a blush creep into her cheeks. He must have noticed, because he froze for a moment and pulled his hand back. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Belle said quickly, trying not to look at the dancers around them. "Really, it's, uh... it's been a while since I danced a waltz," she finally admitted.

Rumple smiled at that. "Just follow my lead, then."

And so they danced. After a moment's apprehension, Belle found it shockingly easy to let herself be led through the steps of the dance that she barely knew, but always felt like she half remembered. It certainly wasn't a waltz, that much became clear quickly.

She wanted to talk, but when she set to do it, their eyes met and Belle had trouble thinking anything at all, nevermind putting thought into words. Music flowed around them and they danced, and for just a moment, the world was perfect.

It didn't last, of course, but when Belle came back to herself from that moment, she found herself smiling despite the situation. "So," she said as they made their way across the dance floor, "is there an end goal to this or is this just an elaborate excuse to get me to dance with you?" She didn't mind, really, but she also had to think of Ruby.

"Oh, it's already working," Rumple assured her. "Look." He spun her out in a slow, almost lazy gesture and Belle looked around. Wherever her gaze fell, people were staring at them, all but open-mouthed. She felt herself blush as she returned to her position.

"Everybody is staring," she hissed. If she had needed any more proof that there was something magical about the music and this dance, the fact that she didn't completely lose her step at this point would have been more than enough.

"Like I said," Rumple whispered, a satisfied smirk in his voice. "A spectacle."

Eventually, the song ended, and Rumple led her off the dance floor. Belle's head was buzzing with the effects of the music and the sights around her and not least with the closeness to Rumple; an aspect that she couldn't really ignore any longer. Though before she could examine the feeling any closer, she noticed a movement in the crowd that she'd learned to recognise last time she had been at Court. The Queen was coming. Her dress was darker than the night sky, and the glittering jewels in it outshone the stars, and Belle had to look away when she saw her face, because there is beauty that mortal eyes cannot easily bear.

Rumple clearly didn't have the same problem and kept his gaze level until the Black Fairy had reached them, when he dropped into a deep bow. "Your Majesty," he said. Somehow, he managed to make the address sound like an insult.

"Dark One," the Black Fairy said. She didn't even look at Belle. "We see you made it to the Celebration."

"Despite your best efforts, Your Majesty." He bowed in an almost exaggerated fashion that did not belie his words.

"And you thought you would spend your stolen time by... parading around with this mortal?" If the Black Fairy had intended for this confrontation to remain quiet, she had failed miserably. Her own temper was possibly her worst enemy, but the fact that pretty much every idle eye had already been on Rumple and Belle had certainly ruined that plan. "What do you _want_ , Dark One?"

"Oh, I just needed to distract you for a little," he said, in a butter-wouldn't-melt kind of tone. "I never said that _I_ wanted something."

"But I do!"

Belle--together with most of the Court, it seemed--whirled around to see who had spoken, even though she already knew the answer; she recognised that voice. Except Ruby couldn't be here, that hadn't been the plan. ...had it?

Sure enough, her eyes quickly found Ruby, who stood in the middle of a rapidly clearing space amidst the fae. She wore her old red coat and every line of her face spelled determination. Belle might have felt sorry for the Black Fairy, if she hadn't been so busy being worried about her friend.

Ruby strode to the front of the crowd that made way where she passed. Belle couldn't blame them; Ruby looked ready to tear someone's head off if they breathed too aggressively in her direction. When she came to a halt in front of the Black Fairy, she squared her shoulders and, with a voice that carried much further through the hall than Belle would have thought possible, declared, "I'm Ruby Lucas, and you have taken my love away from me." The lines sounded rehearsed and it was odd, hearing Ruby speak in that language Belle had come to associate mostly with Rumple. "I claim a lover's bond to your knight Mulan, that precedes your oaths and laws." Ruby's hands balled into fists. "So you better give me back my girlfriend," she snarled.

* * *

A murmur went through the crowd and Belle finally managed to push through to Ruby, only to realise that it would not be the best idea to interrupt her while she was talking to the Black Fairy. She wouldn't make her friend turn her back on a tiger.

"Mulan?" The Black Fairy rolled the name on her tongue as if she'd never heard it before. "Ah, yes, We remember. A knight who could not fulfil her oaths. She has incurred quite a debt of broken promises," the Black Fairy said. "What makes you think We would be willing to give that up?"

Ruby's chin jutted out defiantly. "I don't think you need to be willing," she said. "Because if I can pass your trial, you will _have_ to give her back to me."

Afterwards, Belle would think how much like a fairy tale it really went. Belle caught the Black Fairy's glare at Rumple and she knew then that he--that _they_ \--would pay for this. But she didn't take her eyes off Ruby for long, who repeated her request for a third time, and the Black Fairy caved under the weight of traditions and expectation. She called her guards--a row of indistinguishable figures in dark grey armour--and told Ruby to select her supposed lover from among them. Because if they truly were so close, she would surely know Mulan. Ruby went up and down the line twice, and if she was at all worried about choosing wrong, Belle certainly couldn't see it. At the end, she looked at the Black Fairy and said, in a voice that echoed in the unnaturally silent ballroom, "Nice try. But she's not here."

And the Black Fairy sent away her guards, and called in her knights, tall and intimidating in their black armour, and once more entirely identical. And again, Ruby walked up and down the line twice, looking at each motionless knight closely, before turning to the Black Fairy again. "She's still not here," she said, patience clearly fraying. "Last chance. Give me my girlfriend back, or I swear I will burn your house down and feed Granny's tomatoes with the ashes."

Well, that part probably wouldn't have fit in a fairy tale. Not in most, at least. The Black Fairy glowered, but sent her knights away and called in her hunters. Belle's breath caught in a suddenly tightened throat as she recognised the dark green armour of the fae that had chased her and Rumple after her second Trial.

Understanding dawned on Belle. She remembered the hunter hesitating when they saw her, remembered them turning around the hunting party and riding away. They certainly hadn't been afraid of a fight, but maybe they--maybe _she_ \--just hadn't wanted to hurt Belle, knowing how much it would have hurt Ruby.

Ruby only had to walk this row once. She stopped at the second-to-last of the hunters, and grabbed the figure's helmet to pull it off without even a hint of hesitation to reveal a wide-eyed Mulan.

Nearly every eye in the room turned towards the Black Fairy, who stood at her throne clearly furious and clearly unable to do anything about it. Her voice, however, sounded perfectly calm when she spoke. "Well done, mortal," she said. "The trial is over, and We release Our hunter from Our service and into your world. Go with your lover and with Our blessing." For some reason, her eyes fixed on Belle near the end of her sentence, and the sheer anger in that gaze made her head spin.

Once the Court descended into excited whispers, the Black Fairy made for Belle, who suddenly felt a strong kinship with small creatures caught in front of snakes. Her knees locked up and it was all she could do to keep her head up in the hopes that she might look defiant rather than scared stiff.

Before any confrontation could take place, however, Rumple stepped between her and the queen, as easy as breathing, and he didn't budge, even when the Black Fairy stopped mere inches in front of his face, eyes ablaze and teeth bared. She spoke softly, but Belle could still hear her words and the venom that dripped from every syllable made her shiver.

"I will _ruin_ everything you love," she snarled.

Rumple, for his part, seemed less than impressed. If anything, he looked tired. "You are about three centuries too late, Your Majesty," he said. "Now, unless You want to add a scene to this rather..." He smirked. "Embarrassing loss of face, I would suggest we postpone this conversation."

People had started looking, now, and the Black Fairy must have noticed, because she straightened and stepped back from Rumple, face once more a serene mask. "We wish you well, Rumplestiltskin. And we hope you recover from your... unfortunate accident with speed."

"Your Majesty." Rumple bowed again, the smirk still lingering on his face. When he rose again, though, it was wiped away. "We should leave," he told Belle without looking at her. His eyes were scanning the room. "This could turn unpleasant, and quickly. I'd rather be elsewhere when it does."

Belle was about to say that he seemed to deal with the Queen quite well, when she followed his nervous looks and realised what he meant. The curious eyes that had been watching the two young lovers until moments ago had turned calculating. Cold. Belle caught a hostile stare here, a fleeting moment of jealousy there, and over it all, the courtiers' constant need for the Queen's approval. The Black Fairy's reaction had poisoned the room against them and Belle could watch the venom spread.

"Good idea," she said. "I'll go and grab Ruby." Without waiting for his response, she went over to her friend and tugged at her sleeve.

Ruby looked at her, still beaming with triumph. "Did you see that?" she asked.

"I did," Belle said, "and it was amazing, I'm sure people will sing songs about it, but we need to go. Right now." She sought Mulan's eye, and to her relief, the fae woman seemed to agree with her.

"We made a lot of enemies here," Mulan said. "And I don't think I want to end my time at Court by hacking us an escape route through my former fellow knights."

Belle paused and blinked a few times. "You... have a very violent streak."

"I _am_ a knight," Mulan countered.

That made sense, now that Belle thought about it. And if she was honest, maybe she had avoided making the connection on purpose. "Yes, I just... hadn't thought about it like that until now."

She laughed at that. "Good. I was trying to be subtle." Mulan took Ruby by the arm, and the three of them picked their way through an increasingly resistant crowd until they'd made it to the outside, the much smaller mansion behind them.

"Just a bit into the woods," Rumple urged them. "So that nobody can run into us 'by accident'."

Mulan nodded grimly, and Ruby and Belle followed the two fae deeper into the woods. The air tingled with something Belle couldn't quite name. Like wind chimes that made a sound only her bones could hear.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just go back home?" Ruby asked. "If we don't want them to follow us, I mean."

"Remember what I was like last week when you found us?" Belle asked. "That happens every time you leave Faerie." She shot Rumple a mock glare. "It's very inconvenient."

When she noticed Ruby's appalled stare, she added quickly, "It's not always that bad, though. That was a difficult night for various reasons. Mostly, it's just like being really drunk."

"Right." Ruby coughed. "Uh, I wanted some privacy for this, but I guess I can just say it right now." She turned to Ruby. "Look, I'm not really sure what the... Queen, or whatever, meant with all of what she said, but I got the bit where she said that she "releases" you into my care or something." She pulled a face. "I just wanted to make sure that you know that's nonsense. You can go wherever you like and do whatever you want. You don't "owe" me anything, OK?"

Mulan cocked her head. "What if what I want is to stay with you?" she asked, almost casually.

Ruby didn't answer directly, but the enthusiasm behind her kiss was probably answer enough. Belle pretended to be especially interested in a piece of wood at her feet. It did have an interesting pattern, though it was hard to tell in the dark against the uneven forest ground. When she glanced up, she saw Rumple intently studying the pattern of bark on a tree. Their eyes met for a moment and Belle grinned while Rumple's eyes crinkled a little--which was basically the same thing.

Ruby's gasp for air told Belle that she could probably look again. Both women were still smiling, but decidedly less occupied. "OK," Ruby said, "personally, I don't really need to be sober anymore. You?"

And so they went back to the mortal world. They said goodbye to Ruby and Mulan a good distance before reaching the fairy ring--apparently, there was a shorter way to get to the diner--and once the other two were gone, Belle noticed that Rumple was looking over his shoulder quite a lot more than usual. She wondered if that had more to do with what they had done or with the things the Black Fairy had said.

"What did you mean back there?" Belle asked. "About how she was centuries too late?"

"Nothing, really," Rumple said, sounding a little subdued. "I chose my mortality over her. She retaliated." It was clear that Belle wouldn't get much more out of him on the topic. Not surprising, really; it sounded like a painful memory.

Belle's thoughts began to wander and she remembered Ruby walking up and down those lines, absolutely certain that Mulan wasn't among the number of knights before her. She'd try to ask her friend how she had done it, between them leaving the mansion and saying their goodbyes, but Ruby had just looked at her with confusion. "I know her," she had said. "I just... I'd know her anywhere. It's not something you can explain."

 _Or maybe_ , Belle mused, _it's not something you can understand if you haven't felt it yourself._ Maybe there was something about this "True Love" idea that Rumple kept insisting on. And maybe the time you'd known a person wasn't the most important factor in that. After all, she and Rumple had managed to forge quite a strong bond of their own in just as short a time. Yes, they had fought and disagreed more than once. Belle disliked his tendency to be aloof and secretive, and she suspected that her own hotheadedness drove him up the wall, but when she'd needed him, he'd always been there, no questions asked, no explanation required. Hell, he'd even helped her best friend when Belle had asked him to.  At this point, she was absolutely sure that whatever happened, he would have her back.

And she would have his. She'd known that the moment she had put herself between him and the hunting party, certain that dying there on the spot and never seeing any of her friends or remaining family again would still be better than leaving him behind.

_Oh._

Belle realised that sometime through that thought, she had stopped walking when Rumple came back to her, brow furrowed. "Is everything all right?" he asked. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about your friend coming along, but we both agreed that if she wanted to sneak in--"

"It's fine," Belle said, somewhat absently. Most of her attention was lost in studying his face. He was beautiful, though not in a way she could have explained to anyone else, including herself as little as a year ago. It had little to do with the way his features were composed, though he wasn't bad-looking as such, and everything with how his eyebrows drew together when he was trying to figure her out, the way his face relaxed when he realised they were alone, and the low, genuine chuckle she could tease out of him when she surprised him with a joke.

Maybe that was why she'd stopped noticing whether he wore his disguise around her.

Belle shook herself out of her reverie. This was not exactly the time and place for this conversation. Not quite yet, at least. "I'll have a talk about that with Ruby, but you're right, it was her call. It's just..." She looked for some reason for her behaviour, and then gestured towards her dress. "I was thinking that maybe we should get rid of this before we leave the woods. The neighbours might talk." She tried a smile on those last words and at least partially succeeded.

"Yes," Rumple said drily, "I can see how a ball gown would scandalise your neighbours, while a strange older man living with you for nearly a week has scarcely raised an eyebrow."

"I certainly know a few people who wouldn't bat an eyelid about that part and never speak to me again over a crime against fashion," Belle commented drily. "But really, it's a wonderful dress, but it belongs in a ballroom."

With a sigh that sounded almost like regret, Rumple nodded. "I think you may be right," he said and waved his hand. Belle thought she heard a note in the back of her head, like the faintest touch of a bow on a string, and then her dress had dissolved into nothing. Rumple looked her up and down and nodded, clearly content with what he saw.

"Not quite as pretty, is it?" Belle joked, though her heart stuttered a little at the words.

"Just as," Rumple said, so quietly that Belle wasn't sure if he even knew he'd spoken aloud. He shook himself and snapped his fingers, which both dissolved his own leather attire and reformed his more human-looking face. "To pacify your neighbours," he said with a wry smile.

Belle laughed and nudged him in the arm and they teased and joked with each other all the way to the fairy ring. She frowned when she saw it. "Odd," she said. "I didn't even know it was here this time."

"That's because you didn't have your candle," Rumple informed her. "It's meant to show you the way to your Trials and to show the way home, after all."

"I didn't even have it lit, last time."

"Which is why the effect wasn't stronger," Rumple explained, impatience leaking into his words. "I hate to rush, but my bones are weary and I think I would like to rest them soon."

With a pang of guilt, Belle remembered how much trouble he'd had moving around just this morning. "Do you need help?" she asked, offering her arm.

He looked as if he were about to decline, but then nodded and linked his free arm through hers. "I assume this means you expect me to occupy your house for one more night," he said.

"Probably for the best," Belle told him. "I also wanted to talk to you about something." She saw his alarmed look and shook her head. "Nothing bad. I mean... not really. It's not bad, but it is important." Heavens, she was stammering like a teenager.

"You inspire such confidence," Rumple deadpanned. "Let's get you inside before you are too tired to converse, then." They made for a lopsided procession back to her house, but were still in good humour. At least until Belle saw the open door to her house.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Ignoring the spinning in her head, Belle ran ahead, even as she realised what a monumentally stupid idea that was. She should have waited for Rumple. She should have called the police. Really, she should have done _anything_ that didn't involve her storming heedlessly into a house that had clearly been broken into.

However, when she crossed the threshold, she didn't find any evidence of tampering. Nothing had been messed up and, as far as she could tell at first glance, nothing had been taken.

Belle had just finished her cursory round of all the rooms--after working on them for several weeks, she knew well enough what they were _supposed_ to look like--when Rumple caught up to her.

"What happened?

"I'm not sure," Belle admitted. "But I closed that door before we left. And locked it."

He tensed visibly, though the motion drew the meagre colour from his face. Belle grimaced. "Better sit down; I don't think they're still here, and it doesn't look like they took anything, either." Now that the adrenaline was fading, she could feel the after effects of spending time in Faerie again. "I should sit down, too," she decided. "We should both... just. Sit." She felt her way along the walls to the kitchen, where she threw the light switch and let herself fall on one of the two remaining chairs. Only then did she notice the manilla envelope on the counter and got up to fetch it.

It wasn't closed and as she picked it up, a thin stack of papers fell out that she only just managed to keep a hold of. Her eyes caught words like "autopsy" and "Jane Doe" before they focused on the pictures and all the blood rushed out of Belle's face.

The identifying photograph showed a woman in her late eighties, maybe nineties, lit by the harsh light of the morgue. And she was clearly her mother.

"No," Belle muttered, flipping through the report, which used words like "natural causes" and "organ failure" as if they were perfectly reasonable and not an impossible end to her world. "No, no."

She didn't remember sitting down. She only realised that she had done it when Rumple crouched down next to her, expression concerned. "Belle?" he asked. "Belle, what happened?"

This couldn't be real, could it? Her mother had been a healthy woman in her mid-forties and while this... this _corpse_ certainly looked a lot like her mother, it couldn't possibly be her. Except Belle found a description of the deceased's possessions, which included little more than the clothes on her back--clothes with a description Belle didn't want to recognise--and a wedding ring. The one whose twin Belle's father had taken off the day they had left Storybrooke and kept in his bedside drawer for over six years. Wordlessly, Belle handed Rumple the papers while she tried to understand what she had just seen.

He scanned the papers and made all the appropriate noises of shock, but something wasn't right. Belle frowned at him. "You're not surprised," she said finally and with absolute certainty. "Why are you not surprised."

He _flinched_ at her question, his whole body language screaming "Guilt!" to anyone who knew even a little how to read it.

"Rumple," Belle said slowly. "Did you know about this?"

His face became a mask, expressions disappearing and Belle's heart sank. "I can only imagine why someone would put that report in here," he said. "Maybe some kind of cruel joke--"

"No," Belle snapped. "Answer the question. I want to hear that you didn't know about--" She swallowed. "Rumple, is this my mother? Is she dead?" She hated the sound of her voice. Not determined or demanding, more the cry of a little girl, begging for the world to be kind for once. He opened his mouth, but Belle could already hear the evasion and snapped, "Yes or no, Rumple?"

"Yes," he blurted. "Yes, it's her!"

Neither of them spoke. After their outbursts, the silence was almost deafening, but Belle didn't have it in her to break it. She just stared at Rumple, unable to find her voice.

"Humans..." He faltered. "Adult humans, I mean, don't fare well in the Dreaming Place. She would have been dead after only a few days, I promise she didn't--"

"You _knew_?" It took Belle a moment to realise that the words, accusatory and icy cold, had come out of her own mouth. It didn't feel like she was speaking at all, everything was so very far away, the room, the papers in her hand, her own body... She really couldn't have had the strength to say anything, could she? "You knew and you _never told me_?"

"Belle, I can explain, I--"

"I don't think you can!" The papers slammed down on the table, scattering everywhere. "I cannot believe you _lied_  to me like that! And that I believed you. I actually thought, you..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "Since when?"

She half expected him to try and dodge the question again, but a light in his eyes had gone out. There was no emotion in his voice when he spoke. "Right after your first Trial," he said. "The Black Fairy told me then. She remembered your mother, you know? And she said that if I didn't say anything, she wouldn't, either." He looked at the papers. "I assume she didn't mean that to extend to leaving you the information in someone else's writing."

"Oh no," Belle said, "you don't get to blame this on her. You _knew_ , and you still let me go on. You--" She shook her head. "When you talked me through that storm, did you ever think about this? That I was doing it for _nothing_?"

"I had no choice." Ice had crept into his voice as well, and although his face was still very pale, he stood up straight, eyes fixed ahead. "Yes, I knew it would hurt you, but I still had to get to the Dreaming Place and--"

"You could have asked." Belle spat out the words, together with the bitter taste they left behind. "You could have told me and just asked for my help. I would have done it." It wasn't even a question. Even if she hadn't already been... drawn to him back then, she would have helped him, simply because he had been willing to do the same for her. "And instead you just... you _lied_ to me. The whole time."

"I couldn't risk--"

"Out." Again, Belle barely knew she was going to say the word before it left her lips.

"Belle, I--"

" _Out!_ " she shouted, loud enough that he backed away. "I don't think I have _anything_ to say to you, Rumplestiltskin. Now or ever again, so _leave my home._ "

Something rippled in the air at her last words, but Belle didn't pay it too much mind. Rumplestiltskin went even paler, swaying in place, before he nodded, curtly. "Of course."

He didn't say any goodbye, didn't try to persuade her again. He just turned on the spot and left. Belle heard the door close behind him and with it, felt as if someone had severed every tendon and sinew in her body. She collapsed to the ground, too devastated, too _exhausted_ to even cry and simply sat there while the world spun gently around her, reminding her that she was still faestruck.

It didn't matter. Belle wasn't sure if anything _could_ ever matter again, because right now, it certainly didn't feel like it.

Still, she couldn't sit on her kitchen floor forever. And so Belle got up, still steadying herself with one hand against the wall, and made a cup of tea to keep her from tipping over. The motions were familiar and it was easy enough to lose herself in them. She didn't even notice the far too hot tea scalding the roof of her mouth as she drank it.

She showered mechanically, and got dressed without thinking. There were things to do in the morning, so she sent a short text to Ruby, explaining the basics of her new situation, and collected her things in her suitcase. Afterwards, she crawled into her makeshift bed on the couch. The one in her old room was not an option, after all.

And there, with the weight of seven years' worth of delayed grief looming behind her and the new, sharp loss of something she had barely thought to define staring her in the face, Belle could finally let herself cry.


	12. Chapter 12

She was gone when he came by the house a week later to say his goodbyes. Of course she was; nobody could expect her to stay in a place that had hurt her like this. Twice, even.

Though it wasn't the place, was it? It had been him, at least this second time. He'd been the one to kindle the hope in her that she might actually see her mother again, that she might not be completely alone in the world, even though he had always known that the chances of actually finding her were slim. And when he'd known that there was nothing to find, that her mother was well and truly dead... well, he'd chosen to lie to her.

There was nothing he could change about that, now, but he didn't want to simply disappear from her life without another word. It smacked of cowardice, and Rumplestiltskin was heartily tired of being a coward.

The message was short. Just three words, scrawled on a far too large piece of paper which he folded twice before wedging it between her door and its frame. It was unlikely to change anything, but at least he could tell himself he'd tried.

Rumplestiltskin took a few steps back, looking the narrow house up and down. Over the last couple of weeks, it had come to feel more like "home" than any other place he cared to remember; even before his enforced sickbed stay, he had thought of it as a safe place.

One he now had to leave behind. At least that was something he had gotten used to.

He dropped his cane at the garden gate, not bothering to preserve his magic. There was no way he would win any sort of confrontation, and opening the Road of Song would most likely drain him entirely, no matter what he did. He just had to try. He had run out of options.

He knew they had found him when nobody crossed his path on his way to the Arch. After all, it was no crime to visit the clearing, unless he tried to open the Road on his own.

Of course he still tried. There was a strange feeling of inevitability to it. Like playing the last part of a game of chess where both you and your opponent already know that all of your moves inevitably lead you to a checkmate. In chess, this was the point where people usually gave up the play, but that was not an option for Rumplestiltskin. For once, losing was actually better than just giving up.

They caught him just after he'd finished the preparations and could feel the Arch tugging at his magic; a full hunting party--three knights on horses with five hounds each--and at the head the Black Fairy herself.

"Rumplestiltskin!" she called out. "Your actions threaten the very foundations of Faerie itself and are in violation of the law in Our Court. We demand you stop this madness immediately!" Her smile told him that she very much hoped that he wouldn't.

Magic gushed out of him and _through_ him like blood from a wound and it was all he could do to just stand upright when they approached. He didn't stop the spell, though. He would _not_ give up this time, no matter what.

He barely parried the first magical blow, slow and predictable as it was, with the last dregs of his own magic. The two spells clashed in the air in a shower of sparks and dissonant notes, jarring to the air and loud enough to rattle even the perpetual hum of the Arch.

The second came too fast to react. As did the third and fourth. With a scream, Rumplestiltskin collapsed to the ground, his connection to the Arch severed with a painful tearing of magical connections and senses. He barely noticed the hunters picking him up and binding his hands, only regaining some semblance of consciousness when the Black Fairy approached him.

"I have to admit," she told him, leaning down to speak in a soft voice, "I hadn't expected something quite as... bold from you."

"You know what they say about fear backed into a corner," Rumplestiltskin said through numb lips. "Not that you would know anything about that."

Her laughter was cold. Rumplestiltskin wondered if she really thought that this was what true amusement should sound like. She ran the tips of her fingers through his hair--not a tender gesture at all, but a decidedly possessive one that made Rumplestiltskin shudder with revulsion--and shook her head sadly. "I'd always hoped you would come to your senses, you know?" she said. "When you returned to Court, I was overcome with joy; I thought you had finally come home." Her face hardened. "But you couldn't let go of that... obsession of yours, and you were perfectly willing to threaten the very foundations of Faerie to pursue it."

"He's my _son_ ," Rumplestiltskin snarled. " _Your_ grandson. Did you expect me to just abandon him?"

"That mortal brat is no grandson of mine," she spat back. "And he stopped being your son when you chose to trade away your mortality. You just refuse to admit it!"

"And that," Rumplestiltskin rasped, "is the difference between us, "mother"." He forced himself to smile up at her, channelling every lonely, vicious thought he'd ever had for her into the one expression. "No matter what happened to me or what I changed into, I could never abandon my child."

Her face froze and Rumplestiltskin didn't bother keeping the triumph off his own. It might have been a petty victory, but at least it was one.

"Take him away," the Black Fairy ordered, voice level. "It is clear that he will never see reason, and his crimes need to be dealt with." She looked him in the eye once more and just shook her head, a deep sadness in her eyes. For the briefest moment, Rumplestiltskin wondered if there really could be something so fundamentally different to their natures that she really did not understand him.

Then the hunters dragged him away.


	13. Chapter 13

Having someone declared legally dead without a body is a long and drawn-out process. Belle had researched some of the details two years ago, when the police had informed her father that the official waiting period in her mother's case had passed. He hadn't done anything about it, of course. Belle had only seen the letter because he hadn't even bothered to throw it away.

She'd looked into the details, but actually starting the process had still felt like pushing boulders up a particularly steep mountain and this Sunday was the first time since she'd discovered that report in her parent's old house that she'd allowed herself something like free time. She had watched a movie, though she couldn't remember any of the details, and on her way back, she'd gotten herself a coffee. It tasted like watery cardboard and burned her mouth on its way down, but Belle drank it anyway. She'd barely slept enough for three days over the past week, and the coffee gave her at least the illusion of life returning to her limbs.

The door to her hotel room was unlocked when she returned. At first she thought that maybe someone was cleaning it, but there was no noise inside and when she opened it, she saw a woman dressed in an immaculate business suit sitting on the single chair in the room.

"Regina," Belle growled, the spark of anger managing to kindle even among the grey mist of her numbness. "What are you doing in my home?"

"Hardly a home." Regina pursed her lips. "And believe me, I don't like being here, either. How he survived this world for seven years, I will never understand."

"What do you want, then?" Belle asked. "I'm not going back for the third Trial--what would be the point? Your Queen has won, and if you're just here to gloat, then you can--"

"Rumplestiltskin needs your help," Regina interrupted her.

The sound of his name contracted like an iron ring around Belle's heart, but she tried to keep the emotion out of her voice when she said, "Tough. Tell him he can't have it." She balled her hand into a fist, crumpling the empty paper cup in it. "Especially not if he thinks sending _you_ is going to do him any good."

"He didn't exactly send me," Regina said. "This did." She threw a piece of paper on the tiny kitchen table. "He left this at your house." When Belle made no motion to pick it up, she rolled her eyes. "It's not going to bite."

"Did you read it?" Belle asked.

"Of course I did," Regina replied. "But _I'm_ not going to tell you what's on it. Just read the damn thing so we can get on with this."

Reluctantly, Belle picked up the paper and unfolded it. There were only three words on it.

 _Belle,_ it read, _I'm sorry_.

"They... _we_ caught his scent right outside your doorstep and followed him straight to the Arch," Regina told her. "The idiot should have gone to there directly, but apparently he thought it was important that you get this, so there you have it. Debt repaid." She sounded deeply uncomfortable, though about what part of the tale, Belle couldn't tell.

She had at least a dozen questions, but the first that came out of her mouth was, "What debt?"

Regina pursed her lips. "Who do you think left that autopsy report in your home?"

Somehow, Belle couldn't even find it in herself to be angry. "Where is he now?" she asked instead.

"Why should I know?" Regina sounded almost bored, but Belle knew how to spot the fae method of replying to questions with a question in order to avoid outright lies.

"Because you're the Queen's ward," Belle said, surprised at her own patience. "Which means you had opportunity to find out. And you're not stupid, which means you _did_ find out and you're just trying to evade my question. Which is interesting, considering I didn't even offer you hospitality and you could lie to me as much as you want."

"I am still under your roof." She shrugged. "It pays not to overdo these things."

"So you do know where he is?"

Regina took a deep breath. "You did not hear this from me," she said. "If anyone asks, your friend's knight errant told you. Or maybe a little bird. I do not care as long as my name stays out of this."

"Deal," Belle said immediately.

"She brought him to the Dreaming Place," Regina said. "I don't know why. Maybe she thought it was kinder than an iron cell, which is where people who open the Road of Song without permission usually go." She pulled a face that made it clear she didn't necessarily agree. "She must have some plan to keep him there--fae don't fall into the dreams like mortals do--but she seemed very sure of herself."

"Thank you," Belle said. Her mind raced, and the speed of it hurt after almost a week feeling like each thought had to drag itself through deep water to even reach her. She never wanted to see him again. And she couldn't leave him to his fate, either.

"What are you going to do now?" Regina asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I don't know, yet," Belle replied. "But I can't leave him there."

"Not much you can do about it," Regina countered. "The Dreaming Place is not for mortals. Well. Not for adult mortals, as you so recently saw."

"Don't." Belle put no force behind the word, but Regina must have heard the warning in it nevertheless, because she stopped talking. "Tonight is a full moon, which means I can take the third Trial. When that's done, I can enter the Dreaming Place and I can bring someone back." Assuming she survived. And assuming she could even wake Rumplestiltskin, of course, but that was a problem for another day.

"And you really think she'd let you reach the Arch?" Regina asked. "Or, for that matter, break out her prisoner. He broke the law, if you remember."

That, at least, Belle had considered. "I happen to know a way around that."

* * *

It took three calls--four, if she counted the one to reception to tell them she was checking out early--and a lot of convincing aimed at Regina, but barely three hours later, Belle was once more standing before the Black Fairy's palace.

"Why does it even look like a mansion?" Belle wondered out loud.

Regina glared at her. She hadn't exactly been a gracious guide through the back roads of Faerie, but going through them on foot had still been much faster than taking Belle's old Cavalier. "It's a place that was lost," she said. "In case you hadn't noticed, the fae like lost things."

She had noticed, and she didn't exactly enjoy being reminded, but Belle didn't say anything. After all, she'd been the one to ask. "Thank you," she said. "For bringing me here."

"Don't," Regina said, sounding almost as if in pain. "I only did this because I think you actually have a chance of hurting her. And if she ever asks about you, I will spill your whole plan with no further prompting, do we understand each other?"

"Perfectly," Belle said. She glanced around, but didn't see anyone else. That was to be expected--the rendezvous wasn't until later--but she still would have felt better knowing there was backup nearby.

"Then make sure I don't see you again," said Regina and left without another word.

Belle took a deep breath, feeling the faint tingling of magic go down her throat, faint music like the babble of a brook. "Right," she said aloud. "Let's do this." And she stepped into the mansion.

It looked different, with no celebration in progress. A few fae were visible here and there, but overall, the enormous hall looked almost depressingly empty. Maybe for the first time, Belle wondered about the wisdom of making the largest room the entry hall as well, but maybe that wasn't something the Black Fairy had really decided for herself.

"I seek an audience with the Queen of the Court of Night!" Belle shouted to anyone who might hear her. "I come to speak to her about Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, who she has stolen from me!" It was a bit bombastic, but if Belle had learned anything, it was that the fae loved their rituals and ceremonies, and the more grandiose the gesture, the better. Several courtiers had definitely taken notice and she saw at least one of them dart away. Though whether he was fetching his Queen or the guards was anyone's guess.

Belle, for her part, simply stood in the entry hall, feeling more and more ridiculous by the minute. "Maybe I should have tried crashing another party," she muttered to herself.

As if on cue, a courtier--a lithe creature with limbs that reminded Belle of a stick insect--approached her and, without talking, gestured for her to follow. She did, and they led her through long, winding corridors that seemed to stretch endlessly above her so that Belle quickly learned not to look up to avoid the paradox feeling of indoor-vertigo. Of course she'd known in some way that there must be more to the palace than the one room, but actually seeing it turned out to be an experience she could have done without.

They finally reached a tall set of doors where the fae bowed to her and stepped back until the shadows very nearly concealed them completely. It reminded Belle of Regina's unsettling habit of appearing from and disappearing into shadows whenever she lost one of her little battles with Rumple--only without the magic.

Belle took a moment for herself, going through her "lines" once more. The fae behind her coughed almost-politely, and Belle only just stopped herself from glaring at them. They were right, after all. She was stalling. With a steadying breath, she shoved open the doors and stepped through into absolute darkness.


	14. Chapter 14

Immediately, the doors shut behind her and Belle panicked for a moment, convinced that she had somehow walked into the darkness of the Trials without any light of her own, but then she realised that it was not, in fact completely dark. Just too dark for her to see. She could still feel a slight unevenness in the floor where one stone joined to another and far above her, in a distance that still made absolutely no sense, she could see something that looked like stars.

"Announce yourself, mortal," someone--a masculine voice Belle didn't recognise--told her.

She licked her lips. "Belle. I'm Belle French. And I've come for an audience with the Queen."

Nobody answered and Belle couldn't hear anything. After nearly half a minute of this, she decided that she'd had enough. "I realise that you don't need light to see, but if you want to have an intelligent conversation, I need to know at least in what direction I'm supposed to speak."

Again, nothing happened and Belle wondered if the room was just empty except for her. Then, so slowly that she almost didn't notice it, a cold, silvery glow rose from the very stones around her. It didn't illuminate much, but enough for Belle to see that not only was the room not empty, it was _packed_ with dark silhouettes who were standing completely still around her. She could see more sizes and shapes of creature in this one room than had even been at the ball and she quickly focused on the head of the room, where a familiar figure sat on what had to be a throne. Belle curtsied as best as she knew how--it seemed only polite under the circumstances. "Thank you," she said.

"Do not thank Us yet," the Black Fairy said. "We were just curious what would bring a mortal into our home, claiming that We had stolen from them."

Belle swallowed a heavy lump in her throat. She could have sworn that some of the shapes in the corner of her eye moved, but when she tried to look they were perfectly still once more, and it was more than a little distracting. "Because you have," she said aloud. "I have a claim on Rumplestiltskin and it precedes yours, but you still locked him away." She was getting the words jumbled up, but she hoped that the intent mattered more than the exact wording.

"And what claim might _you_ have on him, mortal girl."

Belle gritted her teeth. "I told you," she said, "my name is Belle. And I..." She took a deep breath. "I have a lover's claim on Rumplestiltskin and you are keeping him from me." She pushed out her jaw a little. "Your oldest laws demand that you give him back."

The Black Fairy laughed. "A lover's claim? On the Dark One?" A low tittering laugh jittered through the entire room and despite herself, Belle felt heat rise into her cheeks. It didn't matter none of them mattered as long as the Black Fairy accepted her challenge. "And after he hurt you so terribly, too. I did hear about your bereavement, child and--"

"Belle." She glared at the Black Fairy. "And it doesn't matter. My mother is dead and she isn't coming back. One day I'll be able to accept that or maybe I won't, but I won't let my grief change who I am. And I am not someone who will let the living suffer for the sake of mourning the dead."

"So be it then... Belle. We accept your claim on Our prisoner. All you have to do is to remove him from his prison." The Black Fairy's eyes narrowed. "If you can make it there."

Belle knew her cue when she heard it and, with a very haphazard attempt at a curtsy, she turned and ran out of the hall.

The first howls started when she was barely five yards away from the mansion. Heart hammering in her ears, she picked up her pace and all but sprinted towards where she knew the clearing would be.

She almost screamed when she saw the figure step out between the trees to her left.

"Relax!" Ruby shouted, holding up both hands in a gesture that was not quite as placating as it was probably meant to be, since she was holding the biggest kitchen knife Belle had ever seen in one of them. "It's just us."

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking." Belle still couldn't take her eyes off the knife. "Where did you _get_ that?"

"A stone in England," Ruby said with a completely straight face. "Are they after you already?"

As if in reply, the howling sounded in the not-far-enough distance and Mulan, who had been absent until then, joined the two of them. "You have about a minute's advantage," she said. "And two more that we can give you. If you hurry, you should make it."

Belle nodded, clutching her candle tighter. "Thank you," she said. She didn't know what else to do. The two of them had all but jumped at her question if they could distract the hunters for her, though Belle hadn't imagined that they would actually fight them head-on. "Are you sure..."

"You helped me when I was in peril," Mulan said, "you reunited me with my love. Consider this a debt repaid."

"What she said," Ruby said.

The howling was closer now, but Belle still couldn't bring herself to leave. This wasn't fair, she couldn't leave her friends in danger like this, no matter what her reasons. "I've changed my mind," she said aloud, I--"

"Don't even think about it!" Ruby called over her shoulder, still facing the approaching hounds. "We said we'd do it. Now get moving!"

"The longer you hesitate," Mulan added, "the longer we have to hold them back."

That, at least, got Belle moving. She shot one last glance back at her friends, standing side by side against the approaching danger, and shouted, "Don't stay longer than you have to!"

Only Mulan turned around, nodding. The message was very clear: _I will take care of her_.

Belle ran.

The Arch was easy to find. Belle had taken her candle out and was already holding it her hand, and it seemed to tug at her all the way to the clearing. She didn't know how Rumple had gone about calling the doors, but she was fairly certain that lighting the candle would work just fine, so she pulled out her matches and struck one alight. The candle caught immediately with a speed that, Belle was certain, did not just _appear_ supernatural.

Moments later, the air under the Arch began to flicker and dance and a door solidified. It was made out of the same dark wood as the last two, though the words at its top had, of course, changed. Bright golden letters forming "Be Sure" stared down at her in silent judgement. She glanced at her candle, little more than a stub after her walk through the storm, and remembered the feeling of warm hands around hers and a voice that guided her through her fear back to safety. "I am," she said aloud, and found that she meant it. The door opened without her even raising a hand.

The flickering remains of her candle in her hands, Belle stepped through the door to her third Trial.

* * *

Darkness.

Belle heard the door fall shut behind her, but kept her eyes fixed ahead. Her candle still burned, but it didn't illuminate anything except for Belle herself as she took one step after another. _Be sure_. Sure of what? Absurdly, she wished Rumple were here to explain the damn Trial to her, but that was the point, wasn't it? She was here to get him back, and she would.

And then maybe they would have a long, very thorough talk. Possibly with some shouting. It was probably a bad sign that she looked forward to having a fight with the man as long as it meant getting him back.

Belle closed her eyes and refocused her thoughts. _Rumple_. She had to get to Rumple. When she opened her eyes again, the light of her candle caught a thin stretch of a dirt road right in front of her feet. Belle thought that she had an inkling of how the Trial was supposed to work; as long as she kept her focus on Rumple, she would have a path to follow. But that also seemed just a little too easy and Belle caught herself looking over her shoulder more and more often, half expecting that she would have to run, after all.

Instead, she heard a familiar voice, calling from the dark. "Bells?"

Despite herself, Belle stopped and held her candle a little higher. She still had a good bit of it left, she told herself. She could at least _look_.

The figure was barely visible in the darkness, but Belle still recognised the silhouette. "Gaston?" she asked, almost laughing. If she had known that this was the best the Trial could throw at her, she wouldn't have panicked.

"Yeah, it's me." He still didn't step out of the shadow, and Belle didn't mind. She wasn't worried about him, but the further away he stayed, the better for her peace of mind. "I'm sorry, Bells. About everything. Please, just get me out of here."

"Don't call me that," Belle said, suppressing a sigh. "Don't call me anything. I know you're not Gaston and even if you were..." She hesitated. No, she probably _would_ care if the man got lost in this place, but that was besides the point. "Nevermind. Look, if you want to get out of here so badly, just follow me."

"I can't, Bells... Belle, I mean. You have to come get me or they won't let me go." He was standing just far away enough from the path that she would have to step away from it to get him and as she thought it, just for a moment, Belle thought she could see shapes in the darkness. No, she realised, they weren't _in_ the dark, they _were_ the dark, and her candle only kept them away. They were clinging to Gaston like limpets to a ship. Belle shuddered. _It's not him_ , she reminded herself. _Just keep going_. And so she did. If she concentrated very hard, she could even ignore his desperate pleading as he was dragged further and further away from her.

As soon as the sound died away, Belle was certain that it hadn't been this place's last attempt at swaying her from her path. She sped up, determined to make up for the time she had lost arguing with Gaston, and focused on Rumple once more. The way he had suspiciously nudged his pancakes when they'd gone for breakfast. How he swung his weight to turn corners with his cane without slowing down. The way he had smiled when she had asked him to take her hand.

It didn't take long, and in a way, Belle had almost expected it, but her stomach still clenched when she heard her father's voice calling her from the dark.

"No!" she said aloud. "No, you don't."

"So you're just going to leave me here?" And of course it sounded exactly the way Moe had in life. Accusatory and defensive in equal measures, all layered over a tone that implied that if anyone ever thought to disagree with him, it could only be because of their own lack in mental capacity. Belle had loved her father, no matter how withdrawn he had become in the last years, but she had not always liked him very much, and all of that came bubbling up in an instant as she whirled around.

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I am. I should have 'left you there' _years_ ago." She took a deep breath. Apparently, she was doing this. Might as well do it right. "I know you missed her, but I should never have put my life on hold for you. And I'm not doing it a second time."

The vision of her father didn't say anything, simply stood there, half covered in the grasping shadows.

"Did you ever think that I might have missed her, too?"

Still no reply. Belle felt suddenly reminded of all the times she had tried to get her father to talk about their mutual loss and he had just shut her out. She nodded. "All right." Her stomach clenched a little, but she turned around. "Goodbye, papa."

He didn't make a sound as she left him to the dark.

By now, Belle's candle was burning dangerously low, and she had to carry it cupped in both her hands to keep precious wax from running away. It hurt her hands, but one glance at that living darkness and Belle was absolutely certain that she'd rather burn the skin off of both her hands rather than be left without a light in this place.

And then a third voice spoke.

"Belle?"

Belle stopped dead in her tracks, shaking her head slowly. "No," she whispered. "Please, no. It's not fair. Anyone else. I don't care. Don't make me do this."

"Belle, please, turn around at least." A pause. "I've missed you, little mouse."

Belle bit her lip to stop the tears, but she couldn't just leave. She couldn't. She had to look, at least. So she turned around.

Colette wasn't trapped in the dark the way the others had been. She just stood there, at the very edge of Belle's circle of light, just too far to easily reach. And she smiled when her daughter looked at her. "Look at you," she said. "You've grown so much."

"Not an inch since the last time," Belle said without thinking.

"Yes, but you've grown _up_." Belle's mother shook her head in obvious admiration.

"Don't," Belle said. "I don't... I know she's gone, all right? For years and years. You're not real and you don't... I don't want you to talk to me like you are _her_!"

Colette smiled sadly. "You're right," she said. "I'm not real. But does that mean that I can't be happy to see my daughter?"

Belle looked down at her candle, but she could barely see it. "You know," she said. "After you... went away, I used to dream of you. Not every night, but almost. And I always knew it was a dream, because even asleep I knew you were gone, and that I'd never see you again." Tears stung against the back of her eyes, and Belle forced herself to breathe through them. "But I didn't care. I didn't care that you weren't real, as long as I got to spend time with you." She risked a glance at the apparition before her, and found it smiling her mother's smile. Belle's throat was suddenly very tight. "I'd always be angry when I woke up, too. Because what was the point of the real world if you couldn't be in it?"

Her mother smiled sadly, an expression so familiar that Belle's heart ached at seeing it again after so long, and put a hand on her cheek. It felt real. Warm and reassuring and like everything Belle had hoped for since she had heard that her mother might still be alive. "You don't have to wake up from this," her mother told her. "Stay as long as you like."

And Belle wanted to. She knew it wasn't real, that this wasn't truly her mother, but if it was good enough at pretending, why should she even care?

Except that would mean leaving Rumple in the Dreaming Place. It would mean that Ruby and Mulan had put themselves in danger for nothing, and if she stayed here, it would mean leaving behind the entire rest of her life, whatever it might be. It was a tempting bargain. But not one Belle could make.

So she took a step back, though it felt like slowly tearing her heart out of her own chest. "I'm sorry, maman," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, but you're gone and you're not coming back and I can still help him."

Her mother smiled. Belle wasn't sure if that made it better or worse. "I know," she said, only a little sadly. "I always knew you would grow up to be a wonderful woman, but... Belle, I am so proud of you."

Belle closed her eyes and held her breath against the twitching sob in her lungs. She wouldn't cry. Not here, not now.

When she opened her eyes again, it took a moment for her to focus on the beacon. It was because she'd had them closed so tightly and for so long, of course. She wouldn't cry here. She didn't have the time, because her candle was now low enough to burn her hand, a steady, stinging pain that got worse with each second. Belle cast a last glance back, but her mother--the vision of her mother--was nowhere to be seen.

"Goodbye, maman," she whispered.

And then, with eyes still stinging, she lit the beacon just before the flame of her candle bit through the last bit of wax and into her hand before going out. Pain lanced up her entire arm, concentrated on that one small burn in her palm, but Belle didn't care. The door had appeared and when it opened, it did not show her the clearing, but a wide, sprawling forest with grassy ground and bright white trees. Belle stepped out of her third Trial and into the Dreaming Place.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mild body horror in this one.

It was more beautiful than she could have imagined. If someone had asked Belle to explain how she pictured the Dreaming Place as little as a week ago, she would have described a dark place, a place where people are locked away and then forgotten. But it was bright, and airy, with trees growing up into the sky and disappearing in the distance of an impossibly blue sky.

It almost made you not notice the biers. On the first Belle saw lay a girl in her early teens in clothing that reminded her vaguely of the 1920s. A faint glow surrounded her face, and she looked peaceful enough, but Belle had to wonder who she had been before. What life she'd been torn from to sleep here forever. Belle shuddered and kept moving, only to pass a second bier, this one with a boy that couldn't even be of school age, eyes closed and expression serene while his dreams flowed out of him in waves of golden light.

The biers reached as far as Belle could see, and every single one had a lost child on them. All at once, her mood turned and the pleasant walk through a forest became a grim tour through a morgue, only that everyone in it was still technically alive.

Sometimes, the place _tugged_ at her, letting her eyes droop and her steps falter, but Belle only had to close her hands into fists to get herself wide awake again. Beautiful as it was, nothing about this place or the thought of lying down and dreaming her life away appealed to Belle.

Rumple wasn't hard to find. All the other trees in the Dreaming Place were that grey-streaked white that climbed too far into the sky to see their crowns, except for one. It was dark, and stocky and when Belle came closer to it, her stomach lurched as if someone was trying to pull her dinner out through her ribcage. She'd seen that kind of tree before, though only in parts--it was a drawroot tree, and it had grown all around and, it seemed _into_ Rumple, who hung half-suspended from its trunk.

Belle stared at him and tried very hard not to throw up. It didn't look painful, as such, but it looked deeply and terribly _wrong_. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but she remembered his panicked yells, telling her not to get near the thing, because it might kill her, so she just stood there, rooted to the spot as it were until Rumple's eyes abruptly flew open.

"Belle?" he asked, voice brittle. "Belle, how..." He shook his head, a tiny motion that was barely perceptible. "You can't be here. You went away, and I--" He broke off again, closing his eyes tightly and then opening them again. "You're real." He sounded genuinely surprised.

"I hope so," Belle said, attempting a smile, although it died on her lips. "Rumple, I'm so sorry, what did she _do_?"

"Fae," he rasped, "don't dream. Not the way mortals do. Nothing to hold me here, except for the drawroot sapling that already connected my magic to this place." Again, he shook his head. "Idiot. Should have found and destroyed it."

"How dangerous is it?"

"It's not. Not to you. Only the saplings kill mortals. The tree just... latches on to a source of magic, sapping away at it."

"How can I help you?" Belle asked.

"Can't," Rumple said. "Not even with rountree. Wouldn't work here, anyway." He took a deep breath, and when his eyes opened again, there was a focus in them that had been missing before.

"Belle, listen," he said. "I can't... it hurts when I think too much, and I can't do it for long, so please, hear me out."

Every word sounded pained, but his eyes gleamed with a haunted urgency that made it clear he wouldn't stop until he'd said what he needed to. The sudden change was almost more worrying than his initial absent-mindedness, but Belle nodded. "Of course."

"There's a boy somewhere here. Close by. Fourteen, dark hair. Wears clothes that are..." He grimaced. "Old. Not just worn, but very old. He might have a cloak. You have to find him, and you have to take him away from here."

Belle nodded slowly, committing the description to memory, but most of her mind was racing, putting together pieces. _"I didn't have a choice"_ ; the haunted look in his face when he talked about what the Black Fairy had taken away from him. How he'd tried to convince her that her mother wouldn't have wanted her to put herself in danger. Belle held up a hand and he immediately stopped talking, looking at her expectantly.

"Rumple, is... is he your son?"

It took him a moment to answer, eyes darting around in obvious distress, before he softly said, "Yes."

"And that's why you wanted to come here." It made sense, of course. Belle could think of little to motivate a person the way a parent's worry for their child would.

"I... Belle, I am so sorry." He sounded tired and his amber eyes had clouded over into a dull polished-brass colour. "I shouldn't have lied to you, I know what I did is unforgivable, but please. He's only a child and I can't... I can't..." He broke off, voice fading.

"No, no, Rumple." She reached up towards his face again, but drew back unsure. "It's all right. I mean..." She shook her head. "It's not, really. You are right, you shouldn't have lied. But do you really think I would let your son suffer for that? I came here to rescue you."

He barked a laugh that immediately turned into a pained hiss. "I think you might be a little late. Just... take care of him."

"I will," Belle said, fighting against the lump in her throat. "I promise." She took a breath. "What's his name."

Rumple's face softened. "Baelfire. His name is Baelfire."

"I'll find him for you," Belle assured him, then turned away before he could see her cry, and looked around for the boy he had described. He was not hard to find, either. If he had tried, Rumple would probably have been able to see him, which seemed very much like something the Black Fairy would do. Make sure Rumple could see the result of his "failure" for the rest of time.

The boy slept as peacefully as all the others, though Belle supposed that it was hard to tell what kind of dreams each of them was lost in. She hoped they were kind ones and tried very hard not to think about all the other children she was about to leave behind.

Getting Baelfire off the bier was easy enough, although he was slightly heavier than Belle had expected from a boy his size. She still managed to get most of his weight slung over her shoulder and took him over to where his father was.

"Rumple?" she called softly.

His eyes opened immediately and focused on what she was carrying. She could even see one of his arms move, though the motion was barely noticeable from afar.

"Bae," he whispered. "You found him. Oh, Belle, you found him... is he all right?"

"I think so." Belle shook her head. "It's hard to tell, they're all fast asleep, and I--" She broke off to stare intently at the boy. Had it been her imagination?

"What is it?" Rumple asked.

There it was again! Nothing more than a tiny fluttering of the eyelids, but he had definitely moved. "Rumple, I think he might be waking up," Belle said.

At that, Rumple actually frowned. "But how?"

"Is it important?" Belle asked. "He's awake." She straightened again, giving Rumple a pleading look. "See, he's going to make it out. Isn't there anything--"

"No." A sad smile played over Rumple's face. "But thank you. For trying."

Belle bit her lip. She wanted to scream at him, that he couldn't just give up like this, but it was hard to do, knowing the flickers of pain in his eyes whenever he so much as tried to think. She had to come to terms with the fact that she'd been too late to help him. And she had to let that go, because she had to take care of Baelfire, now. The thought was strange and more than a little terrifying, but for Rumple, she would try. She would do it.

"Goodbye," she whispered.

He didn't respond.

Belle was set to go, but stopped one last time. She couldn't just leave. She knew she couldn't take him with her, and she couldn't stop him from hurting, but she didn't want to go without saying goodbye. She touched his face gently and he closed his eyes, not leaning into the touch--he couldn't--but visibly relaxing into it. So Belle kissed him.

It wasn't much of a kiss, objectively speaking, with him nearly unable to move and her standing on tiptoe to even reach his face and with lips like soft bark scraping against hers. But the knowledge that this was it, the only kiss they would get, turned it into something different. Belle's entire world shrunk down to the point where her lips met and heat spilled out from there into every nerve of her body until she had to grab at the tree before her to keep steady.

And something... _changed_. Belle barely noticed, lost in the sensation of the kiss, but gradually, it became less of a struggle to reach his lips and they didn't chafe quite as badly. Not at all, in fact.

Belle pulled back, eyes wide open, as an entirely human-looking Rumplestiltskin tumbled out of the retreating drawroot tree.

* * *

It didn't hurt when the tree wound away and out of his body, but the sudden lack of support had Rumplestiltskin tumbling forward. Belle tried to catch him, but she wasn't really a physically imposing woman herself, and so they both ended up tumbling to the ground in a heap of limbs. Rumple made a sound that he would later swear was _not_ a high-pitched screech and that Belle couldn't prove anything, as far as he was concerned.

Then he realised that his leg hurt. Not with the sharp ache of a new wound, but with the dull throb of his old injury, bones grating in places where they had never set properly. It was impossible; they were still in Faerie. His mortal injuries should not-- _could_ not--reach him here.

His eyes fell on Bae and he shot forward, pain in his leg momentarily forgotten as he cradled his boy's head in his lap for the first time in centuries. He might have been weeping, but he neither noticed nor cared. Now that he was closer to him, Rumplestiltskin could see the signs Belle had apparently noticed earlier. Bae was fast asleep, but it was a natural sleep, not the almost death-like stillness of the dreamers around them.

Belle's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Rumple, your face!" she called.

Confused and more than a little worried that something might have happened to it, Rumplestiltskin raised his hands to touch his face, only to find smooth, human skin where he had expected scales or maybe even bark. Then he noticed that his hands looked quite human as well, even though he knew that he hadn't used any magic whatsoever to disguise himself. "Oh," he managed to say.

"It... worked." Belle sounded as stunned as Rumplestiltskin felt.

"It certainly did," he said, softly, looking at her with... not quite new eyes, but in a way he had never thought he would be able to. A way he hadn't thought he'd be _allowed_ to.

He quickly stomped on the thought. Whatever their respective feelings, he had hurt her deeply. It wouldn't be good to assume intentions on her part, only to find himself disappointed. Or worse, a nuisance.

 Belle looked at least as overwhelmed as he felt, but she was still the first on her feet, both literally and metaphorically. "We can talk about that later, but I think we should leave. This place... it's not healthy."

Now that she mentioned it, he could feel it, too. A constant tugging at the edge of his consciousness, whispering for him to just lie down. Go to sleep, forget about everything. Dream your life away. It wasn't strong, but it certainly hadn't been there even as little as an hour ago.

"You're right," Rumplestiltskin agreed and he began to work his way back on his feet. It proved hard, mostly because much as he knew he should, he could just not bring himself to completely let go of Bae. After watching him struggle for a moment. Belle held up her hands.

"Wait," she said. "We can do this." She stepped close to him and offered him one arm. "You can lean on me," she said, "and then you can pick him up." Apparently his eyes reflected some of his reluctance to let go of Bae even for that long, because she sighed. "He's not going to disappear, Rumple. And we really need to go."

It didn't go quite as smoothly as either of them might have pictured it--leaning on another human being was, in the end, quite different from using a cane or a walking stick--but they managed to get everyone upright in the end.

"I really hope you know how to get out of this place," Belle said, as they set their little procession into motion.

"That will not be necessary."

Rumplestiltskin's heart sank when he recognised the voice. He would have asked how she had even come here, but the point was moot. The Black Fairy had followed them into the Dreaming Place. She wore her plain dress and was unaccompanied except for Regina, who stood behind her like a somewhat sullen shadow.

"Your Majesty," Rumple said, not bothering with the bow. "What an honour. Have you come to escort us out?"

She looked him up and down, clearly confused, but didn't comment on his appearance. "Quite the contrary. I cannot allow anyone to leave this place; not you, not that mortal you're so besotted with, and certainly not your _brat_." The last word was laced with venom and Rumplestiltskin was about to react, when he felt a hand squeeze his arm.

"Don't," Belle whispered. "She's trying to provoke you. Something's wrong."

She was right, of course. The fact that she was here at all, nevermind almost alone, should have been enough of a hint, but ignoring her attacks against Bae was hardly easy.

"In that case, Your Majesty," said Rumplestiltskin, lacing the words with as much sarcasm as he had in him--which was quite a lot, all things considered, "I would say that you are bluffing. You have no claim on me, Belle or, as a matter of fact, my son." Even saying the words out loud made his heart speed up. Had it always been like this when he was mortal? It had been so very long ago that he barely remembered it now, but he thought he might get used to the feeling.

"How dare you--"

"He's right, you know," Belle said, shifting under Rumple's arm so they could both stand up straight. "You said if I got him free from this place, it proved my claim."

"And I have a parent's claim on Bae," Rumple added. "Unless you want to go against some of our, of _your_ oldest laws, there is really no way for you to keep any of us here."

"None of you are free from this place, yet," the Black Fairy told them, her voice dangerously low. "All I have to do is to keep you from leaving."

"Why is it so important to you?" Belle asked. "You have _hundreds_ of dreamers here. What difference does this one boy make."

"Because her throne is crumbling." Regina's words were laced with a surprising amount of contempt. "Everyone knows she's only holding on to her crown by her fingertips, and if she can't even stop her own son and a mortal girl--"

"Belle," Belle muttered under her breath.

"--from doing whatever they please in her demesne, then why should any of us still obey her." She smiled sweetly. "Isn't that right, Your Majesty?"

"Careful, Regina," the Black Fairy growled. "I have gotten rid of wards for far less than this."

Regina raised one delicate eyebrow. "And what should I be careful of? The moment we return, I will make sure people know about this and you will be overthrown in a matter of _days_." A smile spread on her face. "If you are lucky."

What was she doing? Yes, Regina hated the Black Fairy with all she had, but this open defiance was entirely unlike her.

And then he realised.

She was making a distraction of herself. And a successful one, at that. The Black Fairy had seemingly forgotten about him and Belle.

And the drawroot tree. The tree Rumplestiltskin had fed with his blood and magic as a sapling. "We need to get her to use magic," he whispered to Belle.

She looked like she wanted to ask a question, but thought better of it. Instead, she just nodded and motioned for him to stay where he was. Not difficult, considering he was still the one carrying Bae over his shoulder. He should have put him down, but not only would he sooner have severed a limb at the moment, it was also very important that Bae did not touch any part of the ground for this next part. Human as he was, part of his blood was still fae and might have been enough for the tree to seek out.

"Hey," Belle called over from one of the tall trees. She waited until all eyes were on her, before she pulled something from her pocket.

It was a box of matches.

"Let us go," she said, "or I will burn this place to the ground." The match hissed as she struck and Rumplestiltskin thought he could feel the entire forest shudder in fear of the fire; something that had no place in this part of Faerie and that no magic could have brought here.

"Don't be ridiculous," the Black Fairy said, frowning. She waved one hand and the match went out immediately.

And the sound of her magic hung in the air like the last echo of a concerto.

The drawroot tree had originally been Rumplestiltskin's last-ditch attempt to access the Dreaming Place by syphoning off its own power to open the Road of Song. But the Black Fairy had taken his sapling and turned into something different. Something that would seek out his magic and his blood, and try to draw from _him_ to channel it back into the Dreaming Place. Only that Rumplestiltskin didn't have magic any longer. The only magical creature with his blood, therefore, was his own mother.

The Black Fairy didn't immediately realise what was happenening when the ground under her feet bulged and writhed. She simply stepped back, confused and maybe even blaming Belle's attempt at arson. "Now look what--" She never finished the sentence. A root shot out from the ground and wound around her leg, up to her torso and around her mouth with a speed that should have been impossible for any plant, even a magical one. More roots joined the first, quickly immobilising her struggles. The tree had been severed from its source of magic and it would not let the new one go so easily.

Her eyes found Rumplestiltskin's as bark began to cover the parts of her that hadn't been wrapped by roots. She couldn't speak anymore, but the pleading look in them was eloquent enough. _Save me!_

He stood completely still as the bark grew over the last patches of her skin. "No," he said, and couldn't quite tell if the thing he felt was satisfaction or regret.

They inspected their handiwork for a moment, though Rumplestiltskin was the first to turn away. He remembered being caught in those branches too keenly to find any real joy in the Black Fairy's fate, deserving as it might be.

He frowned at Regina. "That can't have been your plan," he said. "You had no idea that the tree would do that to her."

"Of course not." Regina looked actually insulted. "I just thought you might do something reckless and then I would have a chance to stab her in the back." She produced a small parcel from somewhere inside her gown. She unfolded it carefully as if it might bite and when she was done, Rumplestiltskin recognised the dull black of almost pure iron. It was strange, being so close to the substance and not feeling nauseous with it.

"You hid that in your dress?" he asked.

"Wait, iron actually _works_?" Belle blurted.

Regina shrugged and stowed the parcel away once more. "I freely admit that your idea was _far_ better," she said. "She should keep the Dreaming Place fed and happy for... oh, however long we want it to be." Regina eyed the tree thoughtfully. "A shame. I rather enjoyed the Hunts." She nodded to both Belle and Rumplestiltskin. "I should thank you," she said. "Especially you, Rumplestiltskin. I don't think many will object to the Queen's ward taking on her crown after her... tragic fate."

"I pity the ones that would," he said, and he meant it. Regina made for a terrifying enemy, even if they themselves had worked out the worst of their differences over time.

"Then take my thanks, and leave this place," she said, falling into the formal cadence of Courtly speech. "And I would thank you never to return here."

She waited for both of them to signal agreement before turned to leave

"Wait!" Belle called after her.

Rumplestiltskin stared at Belle in disbelief. Just a month ago, he would have said that the woman truly knew no fear. Now, he could see the nervous energy making her hands tremble. She just did what she had to anyway.

Regina turned, her face an impassive but insistent reminder that her patience was not limitless. "What is it?"

"We helped you to your throne, didn't we?" asked Belle.

Regina's face went through a number of expressions, before it settled on resignation. "Yes. Directly, even." She didn't sound particularly happy about it.

"So you owe us a debt."

"You learn quickly."

"Get the children out of here," Belle said. "You said yourself, the Black Fairy should be enough to keep this place running. You don't need them anymore."

"Not all of them can be woken up," Regina told her.

"Baelfire did," Belle countered. "We just had to get him off that bier. Why not do that with the others?"

Regina sighed. "The question is if there's something for them to come back to," she said. "Someone who still remembers and misses them in the mortal world. An anchor, if you will. Rumplestiltskin's son is the oldest one who would be able to return by a long stretch."

A battle seemed to go on in Belle's face, between the wish to save everyone and the reality of the situation. "That's acceptable. As long as you save all of those who can be saved. And take care of them."

"I am not a daycare," Regina said, frowning. "But I swear that I will see to it that all that can be woken will be, and that they find their way back safely into the mortal world. Acceptable?"

Belle couldn't possibly know what it meant for one of the fae to swear a direct oath, but she seemed to understand that something of importance had happened, because she nodded gravely. "It is." Then, as if on a whim, she held out her hand.

Regina stared down at it as if it was going to bite her. "I swore an oath," she said. "A handshake isn't going to make it more binding."

"I know," Belle said. "I just wanted to shake your hand."

Rumplestiltskin was beginning to feel the weight of the fourteen-year-old on his shoulder, but he had no intention of interrupting the exchange. The sheer bafflement on Regina's face was too good to pass up as she took Belle's hand and, still clearly suspicious, shook it twice. Immediately afterwards, she backed away, still looking deeply concerned, though not exactly uncomfortable. "Yes. I think that should be the end of that." She looked at Rumple. "Dark One--"

"Rumplestiltskin," he corrected her. "Or Mr Gold, I suppose. I have been informed that my own name might raise some eyebrows in the mortal world."

"Rumplestiltskin," Regina said. "I don't think I have to warn you never to return to Court again. You are _not_ welcome there."

Almost to his own surprise, he smiled at her. "Why, thank you," he said. But maybe it wasn't so surprising. If he never heard from the Court of Night again, it would probably still be too soon.


	16. Chapter 16

The way back to the mortal world passed as if... well, Belle thought, as if in a dream. She found Mulan and Ruby, who were mostly unharmed by their confrontation with the hunters. Ruby had had a close call, as she described it when she showed off the blood-speckled bandages around her arm where one of the hounds had bitten her. Apparently, there would be no lasting ill effects, or so Mulan hoped, at least. Belle couldn't remember what she said to them, except her thanks, but she thought they'd parted with kind words.

All her thoughts were focused on Rumple and the boy he was carrying over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing and as if he had never been injured. Belle had offered to take him for a while, but the wild, almost panicked look in Rumple's eyes had quickly disabused her of that notion. He was not letting that boy go any time soon, she supposed.

There wasn't even a discussion about where each of them would go. They simply went back to Belle's house, where Rumple disappeared into Belle's old bedroom with his son while Belle made brewed some more tea to make sure they would both be sober enough for whatever they might want to talk about. The cups used up the last of her ash leaves, and she almost laughed at the realisation that she'd apparently bought exactly enough of it to last her through to her last visit.

She found Rumple sitting at his son's bedside, a worried expression on his face. Belle set his mug down next to him. "Here," she said. "I put a bit of ice in it so you could drink it right away." He looked at her as if she'd gone mad, and Belle waited patiently for the realisation to sink in. He coughed a laugh and took a long drink from his mug.

"Strange," he said, "I wasn't even feeling ill."

"You might have been distracted," Belle suggested, gesturing towards the teenager sleeping in the bed.

"Probably." Rumple followed her gesture, his face growing apprehensive again.  "What if--" He broke off, swallowing visibly, and began again, "What if he hates me?"

Belle frowned. "Why would he?" she asked. "You moved heaven and earth to get him back."

"I never faced the Trials for him," Rumple said. "Out of ignorance, but still. And it took me hundreds of years to even lay eyes on him again." He still didn't look away the sleeping boy, as if terrified he might disappear if he did so for even a moment.

"But you did find him again," Belle reminded him gently. "Even after all that time. Even though it seemed hopeless. And you brought him home."

"And a load of good I was in rescuing him," Rumple spat. "You did half the work, while _Regina_ , of all people, did the rest."

Belle wanted to contradict him; that none of them would ever have been there--or known about Bae, even if they had been--without him, that he was the one who never gave up fighting for his son, that he was the only reason Bae could even be woken up, because his father never stopped loving him, never stopped missing him, but she could see that Rumple was not in a place to hear it. _Later_ , she promised herself. It could wait. So she just said, "Does it matter, as long as he's home?"

That did get a smile out of Rumple. He reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind Bae's ear, then shook his head. "No. I suppose it doesn't."

Belle left him to his thoughts a little before she coughed gently, drawing his attention. "What are you going to do now?" she asked once he was looking at her again.

"I don't know," he admitted. "We'll stay here for a while, I think. Let Bae get used to this new world where there's fewer people around and I'm already known." He grimaced. "Even if I am known as the antisocial town recluse."

Belle frowned at him, not entirely liking where this conversation was going. "And what..." God, she didn't even know how to start this conversation. "What about us?" she finally managed.

At that, he looked up, hope flickering in his eyes. "I didn't want to presume," he said. "I wasn't sure... after everything, I didn't know if there even was an "us"." Before she could say anything, he spoke again, quickly, as if he were afraid the words would dry up if he took too long speaking them. "Because I am grateful you saved me, and I realise... I know how you broke me free from that tree. I know there's only one way to break a spell like that, but you have to know, Belle, that it doesn't obligate you to _anything_ more." He almost sounded like he was pleading. "I know I've hurt you, and I have no excuse."

Belle couldn't help it. She had to laugh; only a small, almost gentle sound, but it still bubbled out of her. Predictably, Rumple stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.

"Do you really think," she said, "that I would want to stay with you out of _duty_?" she asked.

"Well, if you put it like that..."

"Good." Belle reached for his hands and wrapped them in hers. The felt warm, strong, and achingly familiar at this point, scales or not. "Because I would hate to start this with yet another fight."

"Start what?"

Belle smiled. "Us."

And she leaned in to kiss him again.

 

The End


End file.
